No Escape
by Ranranami
Summary: David and the boys get brought back by a very unexpected fan of theirs. And once they're back on the boardwalk, David has plans for how to deal with the Emersons and the Frogs. But, of course, he's not going to just kill Michael. That would be far too easy.
1. Chapter 1: The Misguided Sue

Author's notes:

Ran - _Oh man, I am so excited about this one...Mary-Sue, we're coming for you! Addendum...this bitch was one of the most agitating characters I've ever written..._

Kage - _We're so very bad...and I have to say, this was painful to write. Taking it out my frustrations on Michael will be good enough!_

* * *

"Samuel? Samuel Emerson?"

"Here."

"Edgar Frog?"

"Here."

"Alan...Frog?"

"Here."

"Mildred Greenwald? Mildred Greenwald? Mildred Greenwald!"

"My name...is _Raven."_ I retorted to the woefully mis-informed substitute teacher. I can't believe she'd use that awful name my _parents_ gave me. It's so normal. So boring. So unbelievably...bland. And I'm anything but bland. My story begins now, in the present...as I draw little hearts around my incredibly accurate depictions of the sexy bad boys from the boardwalk who went missing over a year ago. The Lost Boys. My soulmates...I just know it. I can feel it in my bones.

It was so boring here ever since they disappeared. I rolled my eyes, tuning out the stupid lady at the front of the class. Sam and those idiot brothers were talking again. I heard them the other day talking about vampires, really? Can you believe it? It's so romantic. I sighed softly, just thinking about it. What if the Lost Boys were vampires? What if they weren't really gone?

I could just imagine...flying away on their motorcycles, my incredibly dark silky shiny ebony obsidian raven-black hair trailing behind me...it would be...perfect. I sit behind the dork, Sam...ugh...what kind of name is 'Sam'? So boring. So bland. So dumb. Like he could ever take on a _vampire_ in a fight!

"Do you really think there's a way they could come back?" Sam's voice was a low hiss as he talked with the Frog with the bandana.

' _Come back?'_ My eyes widened as I leaned forward, dark silky shiny ebony obsidian raven-black hair trailing across my desktop...what were they talking about? I nearly squeaked as I clapped a hand over my mouth in realization. The Lost Boys! Could it be true?! Only I could make such a connection. Only I am smart enough to pick up on things without remotely logical context clues.

"Well, yeah, maybe, but someone would have to find where we buried them and do some huge ritual, like bleed on them and shit."

' _Bleeding?'_ I pulled out a pencil from my desk, blueberry scented and black like my soul, and I furiously began to scribble down notes...ritual...bleeding...and shit...if this was true, then maybe it was destiny? I glanced down at my notebook, black like my pencil and my soul, and I looked back up towards the Frogs sitting nearby.

"But what if someone goes to the...umm...hideout and finds them? We should move them."

The other Frog snorted, "There isn't a better place, anywhere else someone might accidentally find them. No one goes down there, we don't have to worry about it."

"Excuse me," I licked my lips several times, using the sexy stare I give everyone when I want something...knowing it works every time, "could you repeat that last part? And...where did you bury who?" My sexy stare intensified, as I leaned forward, twirling a lock of my...well, you know...hair.

The one with the girly hair looked back at me, frowning...because he knew he could never have me. I'm miles beyond any league he could ever hope to pitch in. But he didn't respond, and instead looked forward to the front of the class...petrified by my magnetic charm. So magnetic, I could gather paper clips from the front desk with just a look.

"Sam," I whispered...huskily. "What are you boys talking about?" I drew my long nails across the back of his shirt, snagging them on a loose thread. I wrinkled my nose and tried to yank my hand away, tearing a small hole in his tacky shirt in the process.

He turned back towards me, shifting in his chair and reaching for the torn spot with a horrified grimace, "you tore my shirt!" He hissed, "and I don't know what you're talking about!" He turned back to the front of the class and scooted his seat forward, further away from me.

I just couldn't understand it...were they really that shy around me? Ugh...just one more reason they couldn't compare...to The Lost Boys…

I looked back down at my drawing, longingly...scribbling in an extra detail to the incredibly well-drawn image of myself being embraced by all four of them simultaneously...no matter. I'd just have to listen in at lunch. Maybe I could get more details then, when the Frog freaks and their sidekick had time to calm their ardour for my incomprehensible flirtatious ways…

* * *

The weird girl was following them again. She'd been following them ever since first period and now it was lunch and she was sitting way too close for comfort. Sam glanced over at her before back at the Frogs.

"What does she think she's doing? What does she want?"

"Banana?" Edgar held one up, peeling it. He glanced over at the weird girl, "I mean...I don't know. What do you want from me? I'm a vampire hunter, not a...girl...detective...Alan, help me out here…" Edgar grunted, having thoroughly confused himself.

"She's weird. She's always weird. She'll always be weird. Ignore her…" Alan shook his head. To be dubbed 'weird' by the Frog brothers was no small feat.

On cue, said weird girl scooted even closer to them, scribbling furiously. Sam could almost swear he saw smoke coming off of the paper.

Sam shook his head, "Alright, I still say we should move the bodies. They can't stay in that hotel forever, someone is gonna go down there and find them."

"Out by the bluff?" Edgar snorted, "nobody goes to the bluff. It's way too dangerous. They'll be fine."

Sam shook his head, "I just, I have a bad feeling."

As Edgar took a bite of his banana, he jerked up when he realized the weird girl was staring right at him, grinning. He scowled and glanced over at Sam, chewing open-mouthed and smacking his lips, "they'll be fine. The Lost Boysh are dead, Sham. We'll move them in a couple weeksh if it bothersh you that mu-..." He glanced over at the weird girl. Had she moved...even closer?

"Dude, is she...is she getting closer?" That feeling of dread seemed to grow in the pit of his stomach.

Alan shrugged, snatching a fry from Sam's plate. He'd already finished his own lunch. "Just keep a stake handy, if you're that worried, Sam. Can't go wrong keeping a good, sharp stake handy if a bloodsucker comes near."

Sam rolled his eyes, "I always have one with me, what do you think I am? Stupid?"

"How's your dumbass brother, by the way?" Edgar leaned back, taking another gigantic bite of his banana.

"Mike? He's fine, I think he's planning on leaving with Star in another year or so. Although he looks really tired, not sure how much sleep he's been getting ever since...the incident." He ate a couple fries.

Alan looked suspicious, "hasn't tried...biting you, has he?"

Sam shook his head, "Nope, hasn't tried to attack anyone, Nanook's been fine with him too."

"If you ask me…" Edgar shook his half-eaten banana in front of Sam's face to illustrate his point more effectively, "anyone who goes half vampire...always has a little bloodsucker in his system, no matter what."

"Well, good thing it's not up to you. Mike's fine. We don't have to worry about him." Little did Sam realize as he was talking...the weird girl had stood up and was now standing directly behind him, staring furiously into the back of his head. As if she could crack his skull with her gaze.

And for the first time in his life, Alan lost his appetite. "Uh...Sam...you might wanna look behind you…"

Sam swallowed hard, turning slowly, "What the fuck?" He yelped, jumping, "Why're you standing there like some freaky mannequin?"

She jumped back, clutching her notebook to her chest as if she'd just been attacked, "I...you…"

"What?" Sam swallowed again, he didn't feel like eating any more either, "Something you want?"

She compulsively flicked her hair over her shoulder. It was a weird...nervous twitch thing she seemed to constantly do in class or just about every time anyone looked at her. Sam wondered if she had a nervous disorder, and regretted being so harsh...but then…

"You can never have me. I'm sorry, Sam. My heart and soul belongs to the night!" She gasped, spinning on her heels and rushing out of the cafeteria.

Alan and Edgar stared after her, then looked over at Sam, oddly.

"Dude...what did you do to her?" Alan asked, reaching over to grab the rest of Sam's fries and shove them in his mouth.

"I wish I knew and I'm pretty sure I never said I wanted her." He blinked after her, "Umm, she's weird. Like really weird. There's enough crazy in my life, I don't need more." He paused, snatching up his carton of milk when he caught Alan giving it a greedy look. "Dude...stop!"

* * *

I poured over my notebook. Ritual. Hotel by the bluff. Blood. It all made so much sense...The Lost Boys...they were definitely vampires. It explained why I felt this deep connection with them, from the first moment I'd heard about their mysterious reputation back in middle school. I've always known I was destined to join the night for eternity. I just thought I'd get there through the power of my dark and mysterious poetry…

But being a vampire would be so much better. When I reached for my phone in my room, I could barely hold in my excitement. It would be dark soon...maybe there would be time to find them and do whatever kind of ritual I had to, in order to bring them back. But I'd need a friend. And I knew just the person…

Others know her by the name of Gretchen Smallbucher. Me? I know her true name…Shadow. I dialed her number to the tune of a funeral dirge. The song of our people.

"Hello? Is Shadow there?" I whispered ominously into the receiver.

"Raven? What does the night bring for us?"

I could barely contain my joy, as tasteless as that is. I know. Looking and acting happy is the absolute worst thing someone can do, when their soul is united with darkness and the bleak reality of eternal night. "Shadow...I require your aid."

"What nefarious deeds are we doing tonight?"

"I'm glad you asked...Shadow, do you still have the sacrificial dagger? The one you bought at the flea market?"

"Of course, what do we require it for?"

I couldn't control myself, I let a giggle leak through despite my rigorous training in the ways of mystery, "you remember The Lost Boys?!"

"How could I ever forget?" She sighed wistfully, "I miss them so much."

"Well...Shadow...I have something _big_ to tell you. Something that will blow your mind, shatter your soul into oblivion, and then recreate it in the image of true eternity...and darkness…"

"Don't make me wait! Please Raven, what news do you have?"

I heard a voice on the other end, Shadow's mother figure...I sneered in disgust when she asked my closest companion if she wanted any pizza. As if that could even come close to the delights of what we are about to join with! Besides...she's a fat-ass. She doesn't need any more pizza.

"They're...vampires…" I whispered giddily.

She squealed, obviously couldn't help herself, "Where are they? Are we going to join them?"

"Well...that's why we need the dagger…" And so I told her of my dark journey through the cafeteria that afternoon, of the erotically charged tension Samuel Emerson had for me, and the smouldering look he tried to burn me with when he realized what I had planned.

"Are we doing it tonight?! Please, let's go now, I can meet you out there!"

* * *

My dark silky shiny ebony obsidian raven-black hair shone brilliantly under the moonlight as I pulled my bicycle up on Hudson's bluff. Shadow was already waiting for me...in her black lace mini skirt and tank top. The ceremonial garb we'd planned together.

"Do you have the dagger?" I rasped, mysteriously turning away and squinting my eyes, my thick eyelashes making me even more mysterious in the process.

She nodded, holding out the shiny curved dagger, "Of course." She looked down the worn stairs, "Down there?"

I rolled my eyes, "obviously, Shadow. That's why we're here!"

As we trailed across the bluff towards the shining gates, I couldn't help but think...how like the gates of heaven...or perhaps hell...they appeared.

"Which one do you want, when we bring them back?" I asked Shadow, though I planned to take them all for myself first. Sure...they were bad boys...and vampires...but I know deep down, they're sensitive. Passionate. They just need me, their soul-mate, to bring it out.

"The brunette." She sighed wistfully, walking down the stairs carefully.

"Hurry up!" I urged, pressing her forward, nearly stumbling on my robe. My bathrobe. My black bathrobe. I had to improvise, but I know _they'll_ understand…

And...I couldn't help but gasp when we finally came to the place, shining my flashlight about. The incredible...junkyard? What the hell was this place? "What the hell is this place?!" I stomped my foot, almost forgetting myself, and then repeating in a much huskier voice, "what sort of place...is this?"

"It looks kind of like a graveyard, for...stuff." She was looking at an old fountain as she spoke. Surrounding it were four mounds of earth...it had to be them.

"Shadow! Don't move!" I hissed, drawing around the fountain and staring at the mounds. "I can't believe...I can't believe this is real!" I drew in a deep breath, knees and lips quivering with delight. "...Do...you have the sacrificial dagger ready?"

She pulled it out, holding it toward me reverently, totally speechless. I could see the fear in her eyes, the sheer terror of finally coming so very close to _true_ darkness. "Shadow...let the dagger guide you...feel it's voice in your soul. The dagger will tell you where to cut your arm first…" Because I'm definitely not going to scar myself! I have to stay perfect for them…

She stood over one of the graves, hand shaking slightly as she drew the blade across her arm, watching the blood spill onto the grave. It was a lot of blood…

"Uh...Shadow? You...you're bleeding a lot…" My eyes widened, and I couldn't help but take a step back, nervous. This wouldn't be quite as perfect if I had to cut our ritual short and rush her to the hospital.

"I...It felt right…"

I sighed in relief, drawing closer to her, staring down at the chosen mound. Which one would it be? The small one? The brunette? The one with the rocker smile? Or...the guy in the coat? I couldn't help myself, I had to giggle again, clutching my flashlight close. This needed some sort of speech...a final touch. So, I cleared my throat...and began…

"Oh creatures from beyond life and death, who know eternity and darkness...come now and join with your brides. Bring us into the union of shadows and oblivion in which you dwell!" I shouted, proud of my incredible prose at such short notice. A shiver ran down my spine...this was just so...perfect. How could anyone not fall in love with someone as mysterious and beautiful as I?

Suddenly, the dirt of the mount began to shift...as the blood melted into it… "How much more do you think it needs?" I glanced at Shadow, clutching at her shoulder to steady her. She didn't look too good...but I didn't think it would hurt to wait just a bit longer. Until more blood soaked into the dirt...our boys could carry her to the hospital if they needed to. Bringing them back was of utmost importance, in this, the hour of our victory over death.

* * *

Dying hurt. Being impaled by antlers had to be one of the worst ways to go. What he never thought he would say was that living hurt too. He pushed through the dirt, it wasn't the first time he had buried himself after all. What he didn't expect was to come face to face with two girls once he was free of his grave. Two, very stupid, teenage girls. What were kids these days thinking? How long had it even been? It didn't matter, he had dinner delivered right to him.

He cleared his throat, "And who might you lovely ladies be?"

"I'm...I'm Raven!" The thinner one answered, gripping her companion's shoulders, "and...this is Shadow. We've brought you back from the dead...because we love you! I mean..." She paused, taking a deep breath, "we're your...destiny…"

"I'm David." He said softly, gracing them with his most charming smile, "I must thank you for saving me, how did you find me?" He stepped closer to them, gently trailing his fingers down her throat. She quivered like a fresh jelly mould. Raven and Shadow? Really? To top it all off they loved him? They were his destiny. No way would he ever be caught dead...wait a minute, well, the point was clear, his destiny wasn't a pair of pimple faced teenagers.

"I...heard about your deaths, and how you'd been wronged...from Sam Emerson and the...Frog brothers. Shadow and I figured out how to bring you back."

He nodded in understanding, "How shall I ever repay you?" He leaned in closer, his breath ghosting across her ear. She practically threw herself at his feet, eyes sparkling with delight.

"We want to be with you...forever! Make us like you!" She begged, nuzzling her face against his legs. Clearly, she'd watched more than one trashy melodrama.

He pulled her up drawing her close, "Of course." He leaned forward and kissed her throat, "Shadow, come closer." His voice was soft as she came to him. He wrapped a hand around her wrist before allowing his face to shift, "I'll give you both forever."

He growled and drove his fangs in deeply, he loved idiots. Shadow screamed, seeing his golden eyes as he drank hungrily from her friend. He'd have to find a new 'sacrifice' for the boys, these ones were about all tapped out.


	2. Chapter 2: Coming Back

Michael seized forward in his bed, gasping and clutching at his chest. Another nightmare. It seemed like he had them every night, these days. Sometimes they were bad. Sometimes...they were worse. Unfortunately, tonight was one of the latter. He was back at the hotel, drinking Max's blood...and then he was on the beach again. Always the same dream, in so many different variations. Sometimes he'd find himself being torn apart by those bastards, and left for buzzards to pick at. Those were the better dreams…

More often than not, he found himself joining them on that hunt they'd shown him with glee. It was hard to even begin to describe to mom, grandpa, or even Sam what it felt like to...to want to _eat_ people, at least on some level. Of course, he didn't feel that urge anymore. But he couldn't just forget how close he'd come to being a monster.

Star didn't want to talk about it. She just wanted to put all that bullshit behind her, and she'd practically turn green whenever he brought it up. She was right. He _knew_ she was right. But apparently his subconscious just didn't want to listen.

Sighing, he stood up from his bed and scooped up a pair of boxers from the ground, slipping into them before grabbing a discarded tank and striding from the room. Some warm milk would help. It always did…

The lights were on in the kitchen. No surprise there. He wasn't the only one in the house who'd had trouble sleeping...and there was even a cup waiting for him at the table.

"You're up pretty late," he remarked, sitting down across from Lucy. She smiled weakly and shrugged.

"So are you. Did you have another nightmare?"

"Yeah."

"Maybe it'll get better when you leave Santa Carla. Too many bad memories here," Lucy told him hopefully, leaning forward to pat his hand. Okay, so maybe she didn't really understand what he was going through...but she was his mom. And, on some level, she was right. Maybe he could convince Star to shift the moving date a bit closer. After all, they were going to go stay at dad's place for awhile, so it wasn't like it really mattered _how soon_ they left. They just...really needed to. To move on.

* * *

David picked blood and flesh out from under his nails as he lounged back in his chair, waiting for the boys to pop out of their graves. Maybe he didn't use quite enough, they all kind of died in different ways. Max used to say the best thing about pack was the fact that if there was one left behind, you could guarantee the others could always come back...too bad for him. David had no intention of letting the old head vampire re-join the realm of the living. He was a dick, and frankly...David liked the idea of being completely in charge, for once. He'd learned pretty much everything he could from the bastard, anyway. Anything else...he could probably wing it. Hell, he had all the time in the world, didn't he?

He drummed his fingers against the arm of his wheelchair, "Come on boys, wakey, wakey."

Unsurprisingly, Marko was the first one up. His death had been the easiest of all of them in his opinion. Simple stake through the heart vs a holy water bath, stake through the heart, all the way. Better than being fried, too. Or stapled to the wall with horns...yep. Marko definitely got lucky…'lucky'.

The littlest vampire whined softly as he crawled out of the dirt, "There's a hole in my favorite shirt."

"And that's the first thing you think of, of course it is." David rolled his eyes, "Dinner's on the wall, you can only have one, there's enough for each of you assholes to have one meal." David stated firmly. Motioning to the three teens he had partially bled to bring the boys back. They didn't need to know he got two when he got up.

Marko's eyes alit on the choices, "how long I been out? Couple days? A week?" He asked, hopping towards the biggest one, immediately chowing down with a cheerful screech, ravenous enough to feed on a busload...definitely planned on getting more when he was up to it. Maybe tonight, if it wasn't too late.

"A year." David stated, waiting for the others.

The soil beside Marko's former grave began to shift, and a hand poked it's way through. Dwayne.

"And then there was one." He leaned back, of course Paul was usually last anyway, why would now be any different?

By the time Dwayne had fully revived, and Marko had finished his meal, Paul was still...dead. That lazy son of a bitch was going to need some motivation.

David sighed, getting to his feet and grabbing the last one, "Guess what lazy bastard doesn't get a meal tonight!" He slit his throat over the grave, watching the blood soak into the soil.

"Would it be that big of a loss if he stayed dead?" Marko asked, looking for a new shirt. David didn't see why he was so upset about it. There wasn't even much of a shirt to begin with...having a giant hole torn through the middle really didn't make a difference.

While Dwayne used a rag to scrub out his ears, he glanced over at David with a bitter half-smirk, " _you got any plans after this, or are we just going to pretend we didn't get our asses handed to us?_ "

"Oh, I've got some plans. We're gonna learn from this." He glanced toward the entrance, "The first thing is revenge. Those brothers and that little shit of Michael's brother, they'll get theirs, but first, I want Michael." He stated firmly, "He's one of us, has always been one of us. I'm not just going to let him walk away, it's not happening." His voice came out as a low growl. If Michael thought he could walk away Scott free and unchanged? There was no way it worked that way. Michael belonged to him, belonged with them, and David would make sure he saw it.

Marko knelt beside Paul's grave, licking at his lips and scowling as he poked the dirt with a finger, "you think we're gonna need more?" He paused, poking at the dirt again. "What the fuck happened to him?" He leaned even closer, dusting aside some of the earth, until-a clawed hand shot out of the ground and gripped his wrist.

The smaller vampire yelped, trying to pry the hand away, to no avail. "Little help?!"

David stood moving over and kneeling down before reaching into the dirt and pulling Paul out by his hair with a firm tug, "Here I thought you could take care of yourself." He paused, "Ask him yourself, I have no idea what offed him." He grinned, "Hello, Paulie."

Paul released Marko's wrist and reached up to try and yank his hair out of David's grasp, "fuckfuckfuck, LET GO!" He bared his fangs, cringing.

David released his hold, "No dinner for you tonight, made me waste it all to revive you."

Growling, the rocker vampire scrambled the rest of the way out of his grave, rubbing at his tender scalp, "you try getting your ass burned off by a couple of shits with a lifetime supply of holy water and tell me how you feel when you wake up…"

"I got a set of antlers through the chest. I felt enough like shit when I woke up. I'm happy without the holy water, thanks." He strolled back to his wheelchair and settled into it, "So, we got a bit of night still left, what do you want to do, boys?"

"Find some water and get this shit out of my hair…" Paul grumbled, tossing his head and brushing the dirt from his face. "Fucking got in my eyes…"

Dwayne shrugged, flopping down on the couch, "be nice to make some plans. You got any in mind?" He propped his chin up on his fist while Marko dropped down beside him and kicked out his legs, rubbing at his tender wrist and glaring over at Paul.

"Just my plans for Michael, what kind of fun things do you boys have in mind?" He chuckled softly, "I'm sure at least one of you has something in mind. Unless you want to know what I have in mind for Mikey…"

"What about Star and the brat?" Marko asked, leaning forward and raising his eyebrows. "Don't think I wanna do another babysitting gig…"

"I don't care about the kid, however, if Star gets in my way, well, she'll be dinner."

Paul gave a half-hearted sigh, "too bad. She's got a nice ass…"

"She's more trouble than she's worth, that nice ass isn't the best benefit for the cost." Dwayne stated, picking dirt out from under his nails, "It gets everywhere."

"Hey, that just means it gets a bit of experience. That ass has lived a rich and fulfilling life," Paul replied, dumbly unaware that Dwayne had been referring to the dirt. He had sex on the brain...which really wasn't anything new. Some things didn't change, no matter how long you were dead.

Dwayne rolled his eyes, "Dinner sounds like a good idea."

David sighed, "We shouldn't reward Paul for being an idiot."

* * *

Michael pulled the tarp off of grandpa's car and coughed as he waved his free arm in the air, "old man said he'd give us a couple of bucks for the move if I cleaned out the garage. You want anything from here before I toss it? Mom's got some of her old junk in some boxes in the back…" He called out to Star as he tossed the tarp aside. He felt good. Rested. Today was a fresh start, and hopefully...the beginning of something new, a life without nightmares. Because soon they'd be in Phoenix...preferably even sooner than planned.

The place was a mess. Was it even worth twenty bucks? He liked to imagine it was. Since he'd just finished his last odd job, every buck counted. Nothing had changed in a year. Santa Carla was still shit for jobs.

Star smiled at him, looking through all the old stuff, "I can't see anything really but let me look some more." She paused, "Michael, where'd this whole wanting to move early thing come from?" She decided to broach the subject, after all, he wasn't going to.

He shrugged, kicking the tarp aside and kneeling down to grab a box of water-logged books from god knows what rainstorm, "I just...I wanna get out of here, you know? Been having bad dreams again, and I don't see why we should stick around. I want to get a real job...and I want to go somewhere I'm not constantly looking over my shoulders every time I go out after dark." He wasn't afraid the boys would come back. He knew damn well they were gone for good...he'd helped bury the fucks. But grandpa had said there were more...or at least he implied it. That was enough to make anyone nervous.

She sighed softly, "They're just nightmares, there's nothing to worry about." She laid a hand on his shoulder, "There's nothing for you to be scared of." She went back to the boxes, "We're gonna leave when we planned to." Her voice was soft but final. He wanted to argue...but one look from her was enough to make him swallow his words. Michael had never been very good at debating with Star. Like it or not, he was head over heels for her. Even if she had almost gotten him turned into a bloodsucker. But...it wasn't really her fault. She was just scared. And now...now apparently she'd forgotten the meaning of the word.

"Yeah…" He carried the box outside and set it beside Lucy's car. "You're right. Nothing to worry about."

She smiled, "I promise, everything is going to be just fine, you'll see and then wonder why you were scared."

He looked back at her with a soft grin, "who said I was scared? I just can't sleep." Michael crossed back towards her and pulled Star into his arms, gently kissing her on the forehead. "We'll wait. But we're not staying any longer than we planned, either...okay?"

She nodded, kissing him softly, "Alright."

* * *

When they arrived, it had almost been too easy. Of course, David should have known better. Michael's bike stood like a shining beacon on the boardwalk. It beckoned to them, like a siren's call, one that they were more than happy to answer. The boys surrounded it with their bikes and waited... _and waited_ …

David sighed, this was taking far too long. It wasn't fun if the prey didn't know they were being hunted. When Michael still hadn't shown up David was feeling discouraged but when another young man approached them cautiously he was downright disappointed.

"Umm, sorry, c-can I get my bike, please?" He looked down at the ground meekly, refusing to make eye contact.. He knew who they were. Good. David had almost been worried people would forget about them after a year. _Almost._

Marko leaned over, propping an arm up on Dwayne's shoulder and smiling 'pleasantly' at the stranger, then slyly glancing over at David. Paul and Dwayne were just as amused, waiting to see their leader's reaction. Were they going to mess with him? Let him go? So many options...and they were all itching to stretch their muscles again after just over a year spent buried in the lobby.

"We might be able to let you go, _if_ you can answer a couple questions for me." David stated, examining his nails.

"Anything, anything you want to know."

David chuckled, "Tell me how you got the bike."

"From a guy in town, he's moving, wanted the money. Something about moving with his girlfriend, Arizona I think." He practically babbled, quick to get as much information out as he could.

David cursed under his breath, " _He's moving? Dammit."_

" _Surprised he didn't move sooner. You'd think that whole family would've skipped town by now…"_ Dwayne mentally drawled, examining his nails.

"Go on, get out of here." David growled softly, stepping back, " _I'm going to have to step things up a little. Not only that but apparently he's got a girlfriend, wanna bet it's Star?"_

Paul looked thoughtful, leaning back against his bike and tapping a finger on his chin, " _what do I get if I win and say it's not her?"_ He tended to go for the losing side of most bets. Maybe it was just because he liked to have something to argue about later.

" _Marko will be your slave for a year."_ David stated calmly.

" _What the fuck?!_ " Marko yelped, glaring over at David. Not that he thought he was wrong, but what if he was? This was bullshit.

David ignored him, " _And if I win, well, you get to be Marko's bitch for a year."_ It was fun doing it this way, pitting them against each other. But when Paul's face quickly fell, it was no surprise that he immediately shook his head.

"Think I'll sit this one out, now that I think about it…" The rocker mumbled.

David shrugged, " _Your loss. Let's go, we need to figure out what we're going to do about Michael before he leaves."_ He got on his bike, heading home. He'd have to step up his plans a little bit to get what he wanted.

" _What about the rest of them?_ " Marko looked longingly in the direction of the comic shop. He wanted nothing more than to make those obnoxious nerds suffer a little. Right now, frankly, Michael was the last thing on his mind. That was David's bag, not theirs. And if they heard or saw the bikes, they were already just a little aware that the boys might be back. Something was going to have to be done soon, anyway.

David grinned, " _You and Paul can fuck with them all you want, just leave Michael to me."_

Dwayne looked thoughtful, crossing his arms. " _And the little brother?_ "

David gave him a vicious smirk, " _All yours, Dwayne."_ He paused, " _Isn't he the one that shot you?"_

" _Right into a fucking stereo system? Yeah."_ Dwayne growled, memories of that night causing a jolt to run through his system at the very thought. He'd never listen to INXS again. Killing would be too easy. He'd have to come up with something...he just wasn't sure what, yet. Perhaps he'd re-read something like Justine or Misery for ideas. Though, admittedly, the more erotic elements of the Marquis De Sade were definitely not something he wanted to explore. Maybe he'd just forego Justine, on second thought...

" _You can think about it on the way home, we're going to have a lot of fun in the next couple weeks."_ David grinned at them, they wouldn't know what hit them.

" _Hey, why don't we swing by Mikey's place and see if they've been thinking about us, huh? Bet you we'll always have a special little spot in their dreams...and if not, we could make one..._ " Marko grinned, biting the thumb of his glove.

" _And Marko has a good idea!"_ David chuckled, " _They happen so rarely anymore."_

Marko opened his mouth to say something, but then closed it...and just shook his head, laughing. "You're such a dick." He revved his engine. The boys were back, and soon the whole fucking city would know it.

Michael and Sam were both asleep when the boys pulled up silently. They cut their engines a ways back so they wouldn't disturb the Emerson household. Paul could swear he still smelled his flesh burning as they made their approach. That feeling probably never go away entirely, unless of course he somehow died again in a much more gruesome way...which was frankly unimaginable.

"Any ground rules?" Dwayne glanced over at David, leaning against his bike handles after he killed his engine, and propping his chin up on his hand.

"Don't let them know we're here and don't fuck with them too much yet, need to put a few things into motion before we can go all out." David stated, looking up at the house, "Can't wait to see what they dream about."

Dwayne touched two fingers to his forehead in an informal salute, climbing off of his bike and nodding to Marko and Paul to follow him. They didn't even need to know David probably wanted a little privacy with Michael's thoughts. Besides, it would be a lot funner to screw with the little one anyway.

David hopped up to sit in the tree outside Michael's window, looking inside before focusing, he couldn't wait to get inside his head and see what he was dreaming about.

* * *

Another night. Another nightmare. How often did he wake up wishing he was a lucid dreamer? At least then he'd have control over his own actions in his mind. But he wasn't. And, as was often the case, he found himself an observer in his own body. This time he was flying...drifting in the fog as he lost the strength in his fingers to cling to the railing of the bridge. His lifeline. His screams echoed about him, melting into the laughter of the others.

 _Why_ had he come out here in the first place? Why did he think it was a good idea to just blindly follow these guys he barely knew? In the most literal way possible, he'd made friends and then jumped off a bridge...just because they did. And now he was going to die because of it. God, he didn't want to die!

Kicking his legs in the air, Michael couldn't scream anymore. Maybe he'd never been screaming in the first place...he could feel his heart hammering in his chest...and then he couldn't. As simple as that, the fear died. Then he was staring at Sam while he filtered through comics on his bed, deciding exactly how he'd lay out his dorky collection in their new house.

"No, sorry, my room. Pick a different one," Michael informed him, stepping up and sweeping some of the comics from the bed with a snicker as Sam yelped and tried to gather them into his hands.

"Mike, you asshole!" Sam shoved at his brother, setting the comics down on the bedspread and glaring at him. And he would have had some sort of retort to fling right back at him, maybe even given Sam a noogy for good measure to show him who was in charge, but then...he heard his brother's heart beating. And since his wasn't anymore, it was that much louder.

"Mike?" Sam looked confused, reaching out to him. Michael took a step back, covering his face.

"Uh...hold on a second, Sammy…" He took a deep breath.

"Mike? What's wrong? What's wrong, shit-sucker?"

Michael lowered his hand, "...what? What did you just call me?"

"I called you a shit-sucker. You're a god damned shit-sucking vampire, Mike!" Sam shouted, running from the room. And Michael couldn't help himself, he followed. Followed him down the hall, stretching impossibly long like a winding snake...ending in darkness. When Sam disappeared beyond the shadows, and Michael followed, he found himself standing on a hill with David and the others...staring at himself in the dirt.

And in the light of the bonfire behind them, he felt the scent of his own fear in the air, assaulting him. In the blink of an eye, he leapt forward to attack-...

"FUCK!" Michael shouted, jumping up in bed and tangling his feet in the sheets, crashing to the ground and smacking his forehead on the wood. "...Shit…shit...shit…" He nursed his aching head, kicking the sheets away and leaning back against the side of his bed. God damn it! Another nightmare. And they were only getting worse...if he didn't leave soon, he was pretty sure he was going to go nuts…

* * *

Sam had never thought of his brother as a vampire, never dreamed that he would take the final plunge and feed. But now...apparently his subconscious mind had other ideas. He found himself staring up at his brother, his face twisted into a monstrous visage, golden eyes staring down at him, glinting with sadistic delight.

"I'm your brother, Sammy." Michael ran his tongue over his fangs, "You don't want me to go hungry, do you?" He stepped closer and Sam scrambled back, whimpering low in his throat.

"Mike, come on, don't do this." His back thudded into something solid and he looked up, afraid of what he would find. The dark haired vamp stood over him, the one he'd shot into the stereo system.

"Hey, little man, long time no see." He laughed and Michael joined with him.

His ears echoed with their laughter as three more voices joined them. All four of the Lost Boys and his brother with them. He seemed to fit in so well, like he belonged there, and wasn't that a sobering thought. He whimpered again, curling into a ball. He had no way to defend himself, no way to escape them as they circled closer.

"No, no, no, please, no, Mike, please, don't let me die!" He sobbed.

The sound of sympathy that escaped his brother was wrong, "Aw, poor little guy. Don't worry, it won't hurt...much."

With a roar they were on him and he screamed, jerking awake, gasping for breath as he found himself safe in his own bed. This was Ed's fault, all this talk of ways to revive vampires. They were dead and gone, he didn't have anything to worry about. No one was going to find them and no one was going to bring them back to life.

There was a sudden knock at his bedroom door, gentle and quick, "Sammy?" His brother called out quietly.

He swallowed hard, "M-Mike?" He cleared his throat, "Come in?" The door slowly creaked open, almost painfully so. And Michael was standing there, looking unbelievably exhausted. Like he hadn't slept in a week.

"Hey, I heard you screaming...bad dream?"

"Yeah, really bad dream." He paused, "You look like shit, man."

"...Nice to see you, too," Michael rolled his eyes. "Come on, I'll make us some warm milk." He turned around and drifted slowly down the hall, looking for all the world like a zombie stumbling through his waking hours.

Sam followed him without a word, "You been having nightmares too?" He asked softly, sitting at the table. He flinched when Michael set a pot on the stovetop with a loud clatter.

"Every night, man. Every fucking night…" Michael grumbled, switching on the pilot light.

He swallowed hard, "Is it about... _them_?"

The older Emerson remained silent as he fished a carton of milk out of the fridge and dumped some of it into the pot. It would take a while to heat up. "Yeah." Michael shrugged. "I'm beginning to think they're never going to stop…" He paused, glancing over at Sam, "how about we get out of the house tomorrow, huh? Body surfing or some shit? Get some sun?"

Sam nodded, "Yeah, sounds good." He paused, "You know they're dead, right? They're not coming back…"

"I know," Michael replied quietly, "I'm not afraid of _them_." And before Sam could ask him what he meant, there was a loud crash outside. Michael jerked towards the window and dashed to the door, yanking it open.

He blinked, running after him. What was he afraid of, then? He glanced around outside, "Probably just a raccoon, can we go back inside, please?" He had never really been afraid of the dark before, but now...now he was. Michael glanced back at him, a distant look in his eyes.

"I think...tomorrow I'm gonna talk to Star again. If she doesn't want to leave in a couple days, I'll just...tell her to meet up with me later…" He sighed. "I can't stay here any more, Sammy. It's driving me crazy."

Sam looked disheartened, "I don't want you to go, Mike." Man, the thought of losing his brother made him want to cry.

Michael slugged him in the shoulder, "I'll still visit, dork. Even if we weren't dealing with this shit, it's not like I'd stick around forever. I'm not disappearing off the face of the earth. Come on…" He looked back inside, "ah, crap…" the milk was boiling over. They dashed back into the kitchen together, slamming the door behind them.


	3. Chapter 3: Caught

Ran - And down the rabbit hole we go.

Kage - this has turned into a very, very dark story...we keep getting darker too...

* * *

Paul rubbed his head as he stood up and righted the trash cans, "didn't have to fucking push me so hard, Dwayne…" he grumbled, dusting himself off.

David smacked him upside the head, "Stupid idiot." He growled, "Told you to keep quiet." Paul recoiled, scowling between David and Dwayne.

"Wasn't my fault…" he mumbled, stomping off towards his bike to join Marko. All he'd done was try to get a little closer to the kitchen window. Wasn't like he was making faces or anything...didn't even get the chance to.

The bleach blonde rolled his eyes, "It's never his fault." He grumbled, heading for his bike. What he had seen in Michael's dream was perfect. It was apparent that he belonged with them from his dreams alone. Even if his human mind couldn't accept it, Michael was pack and would always be pack. He rolled his bike away before starting it. If Michael was planning on leaving, they would have to grab him tomorrow, " _Let's get going, boys; I need a few supplies before tomorrow night."_

* * *

There was one thing he'd always like about Santa Carla, bad memories notwithstanding. The beach was great. And having the chance to get a good finish on his tan without having to worry about picking up trash? That wasn't too bad, either. Michael chilled out on a blue-green beach towel as he watched Star gathering shells with Laddie by the shore. She was looking after him for the weekend while his parents were out. Ever since she'd been the rescuing angel to bring him back home, they were inseparable. A part of Michael wondered if maybe that was why she was so reluctant to leave as quickly as he'd like. She'd make a good mom, some day, he mused.

Nearby, the Frog brothers argued and looked like they were just about ready to get into a fist fight over a tube of zinc oxide before Sam quickly slipped away from the group and headed towards Michael with an exasperated shake of his head.

"Why do you still hang out with those idiots?" Michael asked, yawning and pushing his sunglasses up on his nose as he laid back down on his towel to relax. He couldn't imagine giving this up for anything. Sun and sand. Family. Star. It almost made the bad dreams melt away from his mind. Almost.

"Because they're not always idiots and they did kind of help save your ass." He pointed out, sitting beside him on his own towel, "They're good guys, a little weird, but good."

Michael lifted his head, lowering his sunglasses, "They helped. I'm not saying they didn't. But...a _little_ weird? Sam, these are the same guys who tried to convince you they'd bought alien piss from a con artist last weekend at the sax concert."

"Okay, so a _lot_ weird, but they're nice enough and, and they're my friends."

"Star and Laddie don't like them much. They tried to stake them...I swear, sometimes I think your friends just got lucky." Michael observed, pushing his sunglasses back up and propping himself back on his elbows so he could watch the pair gather shells as the tide chased their heels.

"Maybe they did." Sam picked up a ball of sand and tossed it at him, "But still, luck or not, maybe I can help them be a little less crazy." Meanwhile, the Frog brothers had resorted to slapping each other back and forth. Soon, it would probably turn to closed-fist fighting if Sam didn't do something.

"And that's your cue," Michael snorted.

Sam sighed and got between them, pushing them apart, "Enough! Stop being stupid." Edgar opened his mouth to talk, "And no, I don't care who started it. No more fighting."

While the Frog brothers somehow miraculously pulled Sam into a scuffle, despite his attempts for diplomacy, Star and Laddie walked through the sand together, hand-in-hand as Laddie carried a bucket bouncing at his side and grinned, pausing every once in awhile to poke one of his toes into the ground and watch ocean spray come up to fill the holes left behind. There was little of the sad little boy Michael had met a year ago. Maybe it didn't affect him as bad because he'd been too young to understand what he was going through...or maybe he was just good at hiding it.

"Having fun?" Michael asked with a slow smile, leaning forward as Laddie flopped down in the sand and dug through their prizes with a gleeful grin.

Star smiled, "Yeah, it's a good day. I'm really glad you thought of this."

"Let's do it again tomorrow!" Laddie chirped, holding up a sand dollar as big as his fist.

Star laughed and took it from him, "Good find!" She looked at Michael, "You wanted to talk about something? Didn't you?"

Michael watched her thoughtfully, admiring the halo of light that bounced around her wild curls, and for a moment he wondered if maybe he should hold off on this...maybe they should just wait, like they'd planned. But he immediately dismissed the idea. He just couldn't handle the bad dreams anymore. "I'm not going to try to get you to go tomorrow, if you don't want to, but I think I'm going to go ahead and leave in the morning. Get set up, try to do some job hunting…I'll...I'll wait for you." He pulled his sunglasses off and met her eyes, smiling weakly. He really hoped she'd understand. He needed to do this.

She closed her eyes for a moment before nodding, "Alright, I'll meet you there but you'd better call me when you get there." She playfully punched his shoulder, "Deal?"

He leaned forward to pull her into his arms, "deal," he agreed, giving her a quick peck on the cheek. "Thanks, Star."

"Now, let's get snow cones."

"Alright!" Alan crowed, dropping down beside them as he nursed his wounded eye, "freaking love snow cones!"

Michael looked at him, "when did...how the hell did you even hear…?" He shook his head. Right. Sam's friends...still fucking weird.

* * *

David had his supplies, was ready to go, soft rope, blindfold, gag, he thought about adding a set of handcuffs, but decided against it; too much chaffing. It wasn't like he wanted to hurt Michael, after all, just wear him down. He had an idea for dinner too, kind of a nice little homage to their first meal together. Surely, Michael still liked Chinese food. Now it was only a matter of collecting him. If he were human, this would be insane. As a vampire? All par for the course. He knew what he wanted, and he was going to get it. Besides, their last encounter turned David into a gruesome biology project. There was nothing wrong with being prepared for a second round, if things got nasty.

It was just getting dark when he headed for the Emerson house. Even if Michael was still up, things would go his way; he had taken every precaution, and was prepared for whatever was thrown at him, whereas Michael wouldn't be expecting this at all. And even if he did...well...that would make it even better.

This was...unbelievably _perfect_. On so many levels. Michael was outside, tying rope down to the top of a car, securing a few boxes. So that meant he was going to probably try to leave fairly soon. It was a good thing he;d decided to pull this stunt, then. Or he'd have to make a little trip, and the idea wasn't very appealing. David was not looking forward to chasing Michael across state lines.

Careful not to make a sound, he sauntered over to his intended victim, unable to help the smile that spread across his face. The moment Michael bent to pick up another box, he was upon him, wrapping an arm tightly across his chest to pin him there before clapping a glove covered hand over his mouth.

"Hello, Michael." He hissed softly in his ear, holding him firmly against him, "Long time no see." Unsurprisingly, the brunette gave a muffled shout into his glove, immediately struggling to try and shake him off. But the strength of a human was much less than that of a halfie, and even weaker than a full vampire,

"I know what you're thinking, how is this possible? Well, I'll tell you everything, but not here and not now. Can you be a good boy and be quiet or do I have to gag you?" He asked, giving the human a firm shake to show his dominance. Not very effective for a man with no killer instincts left in him. Michael immediately lifted a foot and stomped as hard as he could, grinding his heel into David's toes and shouting against his hand again. David snarled, tightening his grip, pinching his nose at the same time to cut off his air, "Son of a bitch." His voice came out in a low hiss against his ear, "Fine, be that way." He growled, would just have to knock him out, because it didn't look like Michael was going to cooperate.

The moment the brunette fell limp against him, he tossed him into the backseat of the car, pulling out a length of rope as he did. He'd have to tie him up before he came to. He secured him tightly, his arms pulled behind him, the coil of rope looping around his legs as well. The vampire wasn't sure what he was going to do with the car. He'd have to snag the rest of Michael's stuff, too; it looked like he was almost done before David interrupted him. He patted his cheek and proceeded to finish up packing. Now there was only one thing left to do: take Michael home, back where he _belonged_.

David eyed him thoughtfully, clicking his tongue against his fangs. For all the trouble he'd directly and indirectly caused, this was probably the most fun he'd had in awhile. Besides, if it weren't for Michael's twerp of a brother and those idiots from that comic shop, it would have taken David _decades_ to get rid of Max. Granted, he'd preferred to have avoided a horn staking in the process…But, you win some, you lose some.

* * *

David slung the unconscious brunette over his shoulder as he walked into the hotel. This felt like victory in it's purest form; everything was going his way, and it could only get better from here on out. He patted the human on the leg as he moved past the fountain. He'd have to take him deeper in so there would be less chance of escape or recovery. Besides, this was his project and he didn't want the boys to fuck it up. And at this point, leaving Michael anywhere remotely close to an exit would only mean having to chase him down later. He'd prefer to keep this as simple as possible.

Just beyond the new sleeping quarters they'd picked, there was a large chasm in which the hotel had been split, too vast for a human to jump across. For David? Child's play. And past that, a myriad of almost passable rooms. Most of them too dangerous to lodge Michael, however, if something were to happen. He didn't want to take even the tiniest risk of a cave-in wherever he decided to leave the brunette. But he finally found just the perfect spot. A small room near the very back of the hotel, supporting beams and collapsed walls lodged in against each other so firmly, that it would take another earthquake to move them.

Ironically...a suite. How perfect. He placed Michael against the old bedframe, tying one end of the rope to the far leg before he withdrew to leave the brunette to his own devices. If he really tried, the human could get himself loose from the ropes but he'd be hard-pressed to escape, thanks to the chasm he'd have to cross over. Maybe after a couple of hours with the boys, just before sunrise, he'd drop by to see how Michael was doing. See how he liked his new lodgings…

* * *

Michael awoke with a start. When didn't he, these days? But...he hadn't expected to wake up with his arms and legs bound. Nor had he expected to wake up anywhere but his own bed. A part of him hoped this was some sort of nightmare, and he'd just forgotten going to bed after he packed up the last of his belongings on mom's car.

"The hell…?" He grunted, shifting on what seemed to be the lumpiest and oldest mattress he'd ever encountered. "...where am I?" He asked himself, looking about. And he desperately continued to hope this was still part of an elaborate dream. The last thing he remembered was David holding onto him, but David...he was dead, however, this felt all too real to be a typical nightmare.

Scanning his surroundings, he struggled to sit up, squinting into the darkness. He couldn't see much...just vague details of the bed-frame, and lumpy shapes in the walls, if he stared long enough.

The sound of footsteps drew his attention toward what was once a door and the devil himself stepped inside, "I hope your accommodations have been to your liking. Is the room satisfactory, sir?" How David could say that with a straight face he had no idea and it was David who stepped inside, alive...undead, and well.

Michael frowned, focusing on him, willing him to disappear into the shadows of a dream-world, to fade in the face of another nightmare that would quickly overtake him. But he remained. Real. Solid. _There_. "...What do you want?" Michael demanded, focusing on keeping his voice steady. He'd faced this bastard before, and whether this was a nightmare or not...he had to force himself to think about the fact that _he_ had won their fight, _not_ David. And that wasn't going to change.

David sighed dramatically, "I was hoping I could bring you something to eat, maybe some water, or something to make your stay more comfortable?" He grinned wickedly before speaking again, "We have a wide range of _Chinese_ food for your enjoyment."

"Fuck. You. Let me go." Michael demanded, leaning back and continuing to glare at him. He wasn't going to show fear. He wasn't going to let this bastard win whatever sick game he was playing at. And god, how he wished he could continue to tell himself this was just a dream. Or that he'd just finally snapped and gone nuts. Maybe he was sitting in his bedroom right now, drooling and babbling to himself...and maybe Star was telling mom they should have moved a little sooner after all. Somehow, the thought was comforting, in a distant and demented sort of way.

The look of disappointment on Michael's face was enough to make him feel guilty, almost. He sighed again, "Alright, here's how it's going to work, since you don't want to play along I'll just be blunt. You're my guest here. Well, guest is too nice of a word, but let's move on. I'll be taking care of all your needs, you want something? It comes through me, need to take a piss? Let me know and we'll work something out. Hungry? Yeah, that comes from me too. You're not leaving, between here and the exit is a nice yawning chasm. You can't jump it. So, let's start over. Hungry? Want a pillow?"

"Go to hell."

He shrugged, "Your loss. I'll be back in a couple hours, think about what I've said." He turned to leave, "Oh, and Michael, I'm the only company you're getting." With that he left without another word. And Michael stared after him, incredulous. Why was he still alive? What the fuck was David playing at?

He hadn't lied when he said it would be a few hours before he would be back and for a moment, Michael wondered if David had just forgotten he was there and he was going to rot here in this old hotel. Which was probably a tomb...how many people died here in that quake? Better not to think about that. Still, for a delirious moment, maybe due to his lack of sleep over the course of the last several days, Michael wondered if perhaps David and the rest of the Lost Boys had been here the day the earthquake happened...and the earth, in it's infinite wisdom, had been attempting to eradicate them from the face of the planet. An act of god gone horribly awry that had only cemented this place as their home and heaven. A place he didn't want to stay in, let alone _see_ ever again. There was something about the bleak darkness of this room that made the thought seem a little less insane than it was.

"It's been two and a half hours." David stated, walking into the room, "Can I get you anything?"

Michael squinted in the darkness, only illuminated when David suddenly struck a match against his boot-heel to light up a cigarette. And those...golden eyes illuminated his face so grotesquely, the brunette couldn't forget what kind of monster he was dealing with even if he wanted to. "What do you want from me?" Michael demanded. "If you're going to kill me, just do it. I don't give a shit about the stupid games you want to play out."

"Not gonna kill you, Michael. Was never gonna kill you." He took a slow drag, the embers glowing orange in the shadows, "I could bring you a light, maybe? Unless you like the dark, wouldn't surprise me really."

"How...how are you even here?" Michael demanded, licking his bottom lip nervously. He had to know. If he didn't, then it would only cement the conviction that he really was crazy...and none of this was actually happening.

"Funny, that; there were these two girls, called themselves Raven and Shadow. Stupid-ass names, if you ask me. They found out from your little bro and those idiot friends of his where we were buried. Decided, 'hey, let's revive them, we're all dark and shit, it's _destiny_.'" He rolled his eyes, taking another drag, "Well, yours truly got a two course dinner, and they got a nice trip over the cliffs."

"You're a monster," Michael whispered, though it was already an established fact long beforehand. There was very little good will he had to offer the vampire in front of him. He couldn't honestly ever see himself feeling anything but contempt and fear, the latter something Michael would do his best to swallow and hold back.

"I'm wounded that you would call me a monster." He mocked, putting a hand over his heart. The effect only served to agitate Michael even further. "Predator yes, monster, not so much."

"Why are you keeping me here? What the fuck are you trying to prove?" The brunette demanded, squirming on the bed and trying to test the bonds around his hands. There was very little, if any give to them...David must have been a god damned boy scout before he started chomping throats. Maybe there was a badge for that.

"I'm gonna finish what I started a year ago." He stated simply, as if that should explain everything. It wasn't hard to remember why he'd socked David in the face the first night they'd met each other. He'd do it again right now, if he had a free hand, "Not enough detail for you? You're one of us Michael, always have been, always will be and this time you're gonna see it too."

* * *

Sam had not slept well last night. He'd had another nightmare about his brother. So what better way to deal with bad dreams than to go to the comic shop for some comic relief and maybe something to read too. He yawned as he walked in, stretching slowly.

"Hey, what's up?" He blinked, scowling slightly at not seeing the Frogs instantly there to greet him, "Umm, guys?"

Alan slipped slowly into the front of the shop, ducking behind a shelf and peering at Sam through several rows of comics, wielding a baseball bat with the words 'security system' scrawled on them in marker. He looked like he was scared out of his mind…"state your purpose here…" Alan demanded, smacking his lips and yawning.

Edgar was crawling around the side of the counter, looking about nervously as if he expected someone to leap out and attack him at any second.

"Guys, it's me; what the hell's with the bat?" He held his hands up in surrender, "We just hung out yesterday."

Alan squinted even harder at him, poking a hand through the shelf and waving it about, "you're...you're still there…" he sighed, dropping the bat. "Thought you'd turn into a walking worm monster by now…"

"Worms...so many...so many..." Edgar grunted, crawling back behind the counter and staying there.

He scowled, "Were you getting into your dad's stash again? I told you guys to stay out of it, it fucks you up." And as if on cue, their dad jerked off his sunglasses from his comfortable sleeping spot against the wall, then laughed a little before putting them back on and nestling beside their mother.

"You…" Alan rubbed at his temples, "where's your brother? Wasn't he supposed to bring you here today?"

"He left last night for Arizona, said he couldn't stay here any more." He sounded a little upset and he was, he didn't want his brother to leave.

"Staying here...yeah...not good. Staying here's pretty bad. Don't wanna stay here…" Edgar chattered to himself from behind the counter. He didn't look like he was going to be acting normal anytime soon. Well...normal by Ed's standards, anyway.

"We didn't get much sleep last night...and we didn't touch dad's stash," Alan glanced towards his brother and then back at Sam. "Sorry your bro left. Better than being a bloodsucker, though."

Sam visibly shuddered, "Yeah, much better." He felt cold just thinking about it and wrapped his arms around himself, man, he wished Mike were still here. At least next to his freaky friends, Michael was practically normal. Maybe he'd call him tomorrow after school and see how things were going at dad's place. The dreams had to be pretty awful if Mike was honestly willing to stay with _that_ asshole. And Sam was being fairly generous. His mom was probably the nicest person on the planet and even she had finally said, enough, "Guys, anymore nightmares or freaky shit happens, we gotta get together and tell each other, okay? Maybe we can figure this out…" Before we go insane went unspoken. It was kinda weird all of them started having this crap happen to them at once. Maybe they were still just freaked out by that creepy girl from class…

* * *

Michael took a deep breath, pressing the back of his head against the headboard once more to get a bit of leverage while he tried to yank at the end of the rope bound to the framework of one of the bottom legs. He'd been at it for awhile, and it was hard to tell how much progress he'd honestly made in trying to splinter the wood, when he could barely fucking see. Maybe he should have taken David up on that offer for a light, after all….

His upper lip curled in disgust at the thought. He had no plans of asking the bastard for anything...because that meant playing by _his_ rules. Michael had no intention of doing so. He had no idea how long he'd been at this. Sometimes he'd had to stop and take a short rest, because he'd been forced to stay up all night to keep the son of a bitch company. That, and the fact that Michael just _knew_ something awful would happen if he wasn't on guard. He wasn't sure exactly what, though...David could pretty much do anything to him, at this point. But he wasn't...and that was even more disturbing than the fact that he could.

"Come on…" Michael pleaded with the wood and the rope, deliriously begging one of them to give away. He needed this to work. He needed to get back home, to make sure mom and Sam could be kept safe, to tell grandpa that the fuckers were back. Okay, so the old man never talked shop about bloodsuckers...but he knew a few things. Hell, that's why he'd totaled the side of the house to save them, wasn't it?

"Come on!" Michael hissed this time between clenched teeth, and wonder of wonders, he finally heard something...a gentle creaking. He held his breath and pulled again, this time putting the full force of his strength into it. And the creaking turned into a snapping sound, finally...causing the bed to jerk as the leg at the bottom had finally splintered. Thank god this bed was probably twice as old as grandpa…

He could hardly believe his luck, as he scooted towards the edge of the bed and hopped down to the ground. His feet were bound fairly securely, but there was enough space between his ankles to shuffle. It was a little ridiculous, but waddling like a penguin out of this god-forsaken hellhole was better than being stuck there. But despite his valiant efforts, he couldn't overcome the one major hurdle he hadn't considered. The darkness...empty and black. If he couldn't see his own nose in front of his face, there was no way he'd find an exit.

Taking a deep breath, Michael shuffled around the room, moving his bound arms out in front of him as far as he could manage. Given that a length of the rope kept them only a few feet away from the bottom portion, it wasn't very far. He'd practically have to crawl if he wanted to stretch it out more. Fuck this, Michael was going to find a sharp rock or something and shred this god damned rope. Hopefully…

He was wasting precious time, and he knew it. Crawling about on the ground like a mole as he felt about for something, anything...finding very little besides dirt or rotted scraps of wooden floor...and he ended up cutting his fingers on one particularly jagged junk still embedded in the ground and jutting out from some sort of wall...Michael took a breath, sticking his finger in his mouth and grumbling, trying to pry the splinter out with his teeth. He only ended up worrying the cut a little further, spilling drops of blood on the ground. He reached forward again into the darkness, this time a little more carefully, and pressed the rope about his wrists to the wood, sawing as best he could. It was tedious...and he had no idea how long it took before he finally managed to shred a small portion of the binding. He slipped several times, stabbing his own wrists and hands, opening more cuts over skin rubbed red and raw from struggling.

But finally, _god,_ finally the rope came apart, and he was able to shake his hands free, rubbing at his tender skin before fumbled with the rest of what had bound his ankles together. Stumbling to his feet, Michael reached out ahead of him and tried to trust in what little instinct he had, and hope, that somehow he'd find a way out.

He fell several times, stumbled into strange shapes, furniture, rubble, jutting metallic monsters of scraps and jumbled picture frames...and just when it seemed like his path was clear enough, Michael felt a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach when his next step found nothing but empty space...he yelped, throwing himself back just in time to fall on his rear. Reaching out slowly, Michael climbed to his knees and patted the ground about him...he was sitting on the very edge of a pit, or a canyon...something. He didn't know how deep it went, and he didn't _want_ to know...but one thing was definitely clear.

Even with his hands and legs free...he was trapped. Like a fucking caged dog.

* * *

The smell of blood is what woke David first. Familiar blood. Michael's blood. Hopefully he hadn't gotten himself too badly hurt, that was David's job after all. He'd let him wander around in the back for awhile, it wasn't like he could get anywhere, and he was probably hungry. There was still some Chinese food left over from the previous night, sure it was a little cold by now but if he was hungry enough he'd eat it. The bleach blonde snagged two of the little cartons by the small metal handles, swinging them slightly as he also picked up a flashlight. It wasn't like he needed it but Michael did. See, he could be nice.

A soft whistle escaped his lips as he strolled toward the back of the hotel. The other boys were still asleep so he didn't have to worry about them and besides, he was excited to see what kind of condition Michael was in. This was going to be the best project he'd ever worked on, he could just feel it, and he had had a hand in some interesting projects in the past. There was no way this wouldn't top his list for years, maybe even centuries to come.

He flicked the light on as he got closer to the chasm, swinging the bright beam of light around, "Oh, Michael." He grinned, easily hopping over the chasm, "Come out, come out wherever you are." He chuckled softly, "Got a present for you if you can be a good boy." He gave the cartons a little swing again as he poked his head into the room he had designated for the young man, "Not here?"

Leather clad shoulders shrugged before he turned and headed through the tunnels. Well, at one point they were hallways but time and the earthquake had really done a number on them. Torn wallpaper and decaying wood seemed to crumble around him as it was taken over by rock. Funny how time wears away all things but he would always remain the same. He let out a snort, now he was waxing poetic like Dwayne, the other vampire had to be rubbing off on him.

"Michael!" The next room he looked in was in bad shape. Most of it was covered in fallen rocks as the wall caved in. No way would Michael be in there. Maybe he was looking for a bathroom? There were probably a couple down here that were in good condition, they wouldn't work but when you gotta go, you gotta go. A soft sigh escaped his lips, that little shit was in for it now, or would be if this wasn't actually the most fun he'd had since the last time he'd played with Michael, "I've got food for you!" With a grumble he turned and headed back the way he'd come. He'd probably missed him, let his mind wander too much to notice. When he got back to the chasm, he saw him. The brunette was slumped against the wall, his sweater torn, "Hey." He crouched down in front of him, putting the flashlight down and holding out the food, "Hungry?"

Michael flinched at the sudden invasion of light, holding up a hand in front of his face and squinting with a frown at David. It took a moment for him to say anything, as he adjusted. Then he quietly eyed the carton in David's hand. A world of conflict flashing over his face in that instant before he reluctantly reached out to take it. He didn't say a word.

David chuckled softly, "Light, food, what more could you want?" He grinned, "So, what's on your mind tonight?" He settled back against the wall, glancing over at his companion.

Michael glared at the carton in his hand, flipping it open and eyeing the rice inside, "fork."

David patted down his pockets before pulling out a plastic spork, "Spork. Better than a fork." He didn't have much of a chance to say anything else before Michael jerked the spork from his hand and jammed it into the carton, angrily shoveling mouthfuls of rice while he tried to glare at David through the dim light.

"Remember what it was like to eat maggots?" He sighed wistfully, "That was a good night."

Michael paused, lowering the carton and breathing through his nostrils, struggling to swallow a large clump of cold, dry rice. He was clearly thirsty, but probably not going to ask for anything to drink. "For you, maybe. I thought I was drunk."

"Was a good feeling though, man, couldn't keep that bottle out of your hands." He paused, "Anything you want tonight?"

"I want to leave." Michael lifted the carton again and took another mouthful of rice, nostrils flaring while he tried to finish the food as quickly as possible.

"Sorry, not happening, try again." He looked up at the ceiling, lighting a cigarette and taking a slow drag, "Maybe go for something simpler."

"I want to kill you. That simple enough, David?" Michael retorted, dropping the empty carton carelessly beside him. It was inches away from the chasm. The brunette glanced over and visibly paled.

He rolled his eyes, "You're battin' a thousand, try again because yeah, not simple enough." He offered him the cigarette, "It's a long way down, trust me. Paul thought it would be a good idea to fly down there when he was high, we didn't see him again for two hours."

Michael looked at the cigarette, eyes flicking back up to David's face. He sighed, reaching out to take it. Not the worst thing he could be doing tonight, anyway. And it gave him something to do. He took a pull from the cigarette, closing his eyes and leaning his head back against the wall. "So I get it. I do. You're mad because I killed you, right? And you're ticked off Star liked me more than you, and didn't want to be a fucking monster. Well, guess what, David? Driving me nuts down here isn't going to give you what you want. She's not coming back...and I'm not sticking around, if I can help it. So what do you think of that, huh?" Michael passed the cigarette back to him, and somehow even with that gesture he managed to communicate another level of bitterness.

"Well, how about the fact that I don't give a rats ass about Star?" He took a long pull, letting it out in a slow stream of white smoke, "As far as you sticking around? Let me just break this down for you. You're. Not. Going. Anywhere." He paused, "And I'm not pissed you killed me, because you offed Max too."

"Wanna bet?" Michael challenged him, just about ready to fight him if he had to. As a jock, he did tend to resort to fists when words failed. Right now, he looked like he was on the verge of proving that through example.

He raised an eyebrow, "Are you serious? You know that's not going to end well, right?"

"And what are my other options? Sitting around and playing tea party with you until I go nuts? Fuck you, David."

David hopped to his feet, patting him on the head, "It's your choice if you want to go nuts or not."

Michael apparently decided that wasn't good enough...and David was in the perfect position right now for him to pull one move that would cripple any man. Or vampire. He clenched his fist and punched the bleach blonde in the crotch as hard as he could, before pushing himself to his feet and stumbling through the dark, forgetting the flashlight in favor of his only option. He wasn't going to stick around, even if it meant leaving in the one way he hated to consider. Taking a deep breath, Michael dove into the chasm. He didn't even scream.

David howled in pain before realizing that Michael had just tried to take the coward's way out. He scrambled to his feet, forcing the thought of his aching balls out of his mind, and diving in after him. After this, Michael wouldn't be able to try a stunt like that again. He snarled, lashing out and grabbing the brunette by the back of his shirt. The material threatened to tear further but held firm as David pulled a struggling Michael into his arms. The vampire bit his own wrist in one smooth movement before forcing it to his mouth.

"You can't fly yet, Michael." He hissed in his ear, keeping his flesh firmly in place, making sure he would have no choice but to swallow. Besides, after that first taste hit your tongue, there was no stopping. The brunette gave a muffled shout of protest, involuntarily gasping. And that was when the blood spilled past his lips, "Drink up." David's voice was a low growl in his ear as he formed his body to the newly made halfling's back.

* * *

He didn't want to do this. Didn't want to have to kill himself. But Michael _wasn't going to be a pet. Or a victim._ If he was going to die, it would be by his own terms. And living at that bastard's mercy wasn't something Michael planned on doing for the rest of his life. Wind brushed at his hair, and he was almost elated at the thought that in a somewhat morbid way, he'd actually _won..._ but then he felt himself jerked up in the abyss of the chasm by something gripping at his shirt.

 _God damn it…_

Michael flung out his fists and kicked in the air, trying to wrestle David's arms from around him, but he just didn't have the strength. Between the pit falling out of his stomach after the jump, and a day and a half of manic sleep deprivation...he was as weak as a kitten. The ache of the splinters still embedded in his palms, coupled with his lack of footing didn't help mattrs either.

Then he felt cold, bleeding skin against his lips, while the monster held him even closer, pressing up against him. If he wasn't terrified out of his wits, he'd think David was coming on to him.

He tried to keep his mouth shut. He really did. But he couldn't get any air in through his nose, and he could only hold his breath for so long, "You can't fly yet, Michael." That voice hissed in his ear, the wrist seeming to press harder against his lips. Star's name died on his mouth, when he was finally forced to try to breathe. And then he tasted it...despite himself, he tasted it. Not only tasted, but savored. Not only savored, but indulged in. Even as he tried to fight the urge to swallow, he became an observer in his own body. Like the nightmares...but this wasn't a nightmare. This was real. And he couldn't get away from it.

It was ecstasy made in liquid form, indefinable, dark, and so much better than when he'd practically drained a whole bottle of the stuff what seemed like a decade ago. Nothing could compare. Nothing ever would…

* * *

David grinned, scooping Michael up into his free arm like an infant, carrying him back to his room, continuing to let him nurse on his wrist as he went. The more blood he got in him the better. He wouldn't even be thinking of suicide after this, would probably only be worried about where he was going to get his next fix. The bleach blonde slowly knelt to the mattress as got him settled in bed and slowly removed his wrist.

"Like that?" He grinned down at him, watching as the wound closed. The halfling chased a trail of blood dripping from the corner of his mouth, seeming to slowly...very slowly...realize what he'd done, as the truth hit home behind glazed eyes.

"...Why?" Michael demanded, or seemed to try. It ended up coming out as more of a plea than a demand. Cute.

David chuckled, finding the whole thing adorable, "Because you're pack, because you're mine, because you belong with us. You've been dreaming about it, your body wants it, craves it; it's smarter than you are." He grinned down at him, holding his wrist out to see if he wanted the last traces of blood trickling over his skin, "You're one of us, Michael."

Michael swallowed, closing his eyes and letting his head loll back as he raised a shaking hand to try and shove David's wrist away. "Not. _Never._ "

He shrugged, slowly pulling his wrist back, he'd lick it off himself if Michael didn't want it, "Keep telling yourself that." He paused, "Tell you what...tomorrow night, if you can beat me at cards, I'll let you go."

Straightening up, the brunette tried to focus his gaze on David. He was a little too out of it for his glare to carry much weight, "if I lose?"

"If you lose, you stop trying to escape. You can fight, you can struggle, but you're stuck here." He really wanted to add a couple more stipulations but he didn't want to go too overboard or the brunette would know it was rigged from the start.

Yawning, Michael lowered his head to one of the moth-eaten pillows, not even bothering to try and fight off exhaustion any longer, as the blood worked through his system and feverishly reclaimed parts of Michael's body that had already been acquainted with the change before, "sure…" he mumbled. "Gonna…" he yawned again, "kill you." And then he was drifting away into his first dreamless sleep in months.

David chuckled softly, "Sure you are." He patted him on the head before turning and leaving, Michael's tune would change soon enough and David would be there to see it happen. His little protests proved one thing that David had told him quite a while ago. He _was_ a killer...he just had to focus that instinct in the right direction.


	4. Chapter 4: They're Still Dead, Jim

"No, Jack, I'm not calling to ask you for money," Lucy sighed. "I already told you, I just wanted to check on Michael and see if he made it there okay." She nervously paced the kitchen, holding the phone against her ear with her shoulder while she feverishly worked on peeling an apple with a paring knife. Talking to her ex always upset her. It upset anyone, honestly. He really was just the worst sort of person, and every conversation they had was less and less civil.

She paused to drop a piece of apple peel into the trashcan, glancing over at her father with a weak smile while he examined his tv guide at the kitchen table.

"He never showed up, took the day off work and everything, ungrateful brat that he is. I said you taking them would ruin them. Probably passed out on the side of the road."

 _Like his father._ Lucy shook the thought from her head. Michael was a good boy, he wouldn't just up and disappear. She'd give him another day, maybe something went wrong, car trouble or something.

"Listen, just tell him to call me when he shows up. And if he doesn't, I want to know about it, too. Do you think you can do that for me?" Lucy demanded, practically snapped, and then felt immediately ashamed that she'd already let him pull out the worst in her. He always did.

"I've got a shit-load of my own problems, Lucy. He's a big boy. If he doesn't call, he doesn't call. I'll let you know if he's not around by Friday," he replied over the phone, an air of disinterest leaking into his voice. The fact that the man apparently didn't care his eldest son might have gotten hurt or gone missing didn't even seem to vaguely register for him.

"Good-bye Jack," Lucy sighed, hanging up before he even responded. She needn't have bothered anyway, because he probably would have hung up too. She glanced back over at her father, carving off a piece of apple and nibbling on it as she crossed the kitchen. "I'm worried about him, dad. This isn't like Michael. I really hope it was just car trouble..."

* * *

Marko relaxed on the ground, passing a joint up to Paul beside the fountain, "okay...so I say tonight we make them think their grandma's visiting...then have her turn into a cockroach or some shit after she bakes them cookies…" One of his pigeons nestled at his feet, pecking at a loose thread on his jean cuffs.

"Snakes." Paul was flipping through a nature magazine, "Lots of snakes. Maybe spiders too, spiders crawling out of their mouths."

"Too much too fast, and they're gonna break," Dwayne remarked, relaxing on the couch and staring up at the ceiling. "I think we should try to make it last. Nothing better to do if David's going to be busy for awhile..."

Paul tossed the magazine, "Well, what do you suggest, oh great one?" He rolled his eyes, grabbing another joint.

Dwayne glanced down at a dog-eared copy of 'Naked Lunch' beside the couch, scooping it up and glancing over at Marko. "Give them a week. They'll think they ate something funny, or just had freaky dreams...let them think it's not gonna happen again…" He grinned, "then we'll go back and make it twice as fucked-up."

Paul and Marko looked thoughtful before nodding in agreement. That's when David decided to walk in, "Make what fucked-up?" He asked, settling into his was in a _very_ good mood tonight.

"Playing games with the Froggies," Paul cackled, holding the join out towards him. "Sure you don't wanna head out and mess with Mikey's little bro tonight?"

"You're all welcome to it, messing with Michael is enough fun." He pulled out a deck of cards, "I've got a game scheduled for the night. Mikey's gonna try to win his freedom." He laughed, "You could always wait on Sam too, let it build up."

Marko rolled his eyes, "bet they have sleepovers all the time."

"Probably do a little...extra?" Paul grinned, making a lewd motion with his hand.

"Yeah, bet you'd like to see that." Marko glared at him, "Wanna gouge my brain out, get rid of that picture."

Dwayne tossed the book at Paul, and it smacked into his face, "I didn't need that in my head."

David shook his head, "Have fun, boys, see you later tonight." He grabbed a bottle of water and headed deeper into the hotel, going to see Michael. Maybe he'd be in a better mood tonight. After all, right now, David was the only company he had.

He found him in the same room tonight, which was a good sign. Meant he'd either just gotten up, or wasn't going to try and pull another escape attempt. He'd give him the benefit of the doubt and stay out of his head as long as the boy played nice. David was capable of being an excellent host, even when he _wasn't_ playing with food.

Michael was sitting on the ground leaning against the side of 'his' bed with his arms crossed, staring up at the ceiling. Already, his vision seemed to have adapted somewhat. Another good sign. Also much less of a hassle, because it meant they wouldn't have to stock up on batteries for the flashlight.

"Good evening, Michael." See, he could be nice, "How're you tonight?"

Michael slowly lowered his head, refusing to even give David his full attention, "how do you think? I feel like shit, asshole." He looked it, too. Apparently spending a couple of days in a dark cave was beginning to get to him.

"Figured you'd be feeling pretty good, seeing better. Ready for a game of cards?" He questioned, taking a seat, "Or is there something you'd like?"

"Just deal the god damn cards." Michael paused, "and I want some water, but I'm not about to make some kind of dumb deal for it. 'Tell you what, Michael...how about you pretend we're best buddies, and maybe I'll swing by the gas station'?" His manners weren't at their best right now.

David shook his head, "Just thought we could relax, have a nice game." He started dealing with practiced hands, "Easy there, we're all good, relax." He checked his pockets, pulling out a bottle of water and tossing it to him, "Poker, best out of three." He stated the name of the game for the night. When Michael caught the bottle, he seemed to eye it warily, then unscrewed the top and sniffed at the contents, "It's just water." The blood would come later. He tossed out the last card before picking up his hand. This was in no way going to be a fair game, after all, David could read his mind, "How many?" He replaced two of his own cards.

Michael examined his hand, finally taking a gulp of the water. Then another. "Three," he ground out, tossing down his discards and finishing up the rest of the bottle in record time.

David raised an eyebrow but gave him three, "You downed that in record time."

"I don't know if you remember this or not, but human beings tend to _die_ after a few days if they don't get any water," Michael retorted.

"I'll be sure to keep that in mind but you did get water yesterday, it hasn't been that long." He smirked behind his cards, "Still thirsty?" He laid out his cards, two pairs.

Michael screwed up his features, deep in thought as he stared at his cards and began to bite at his thumbnail, "you didn't...yesterday?" He was definitely confused, now. "Two pairs," he frowned, glaring down at his cards. Michael didn't know it, but he'd just played a dead man's hand, ironically enough.

"Yeah, yesterday, what've you got?"

"Are you blind? Two eights and two aces, David."

He chuckled softly, "You've got the dead man's hand, Mikey." He began humming 'The Gambler'.

"Last I checked, you're the only one here with dead hands," Michael sighed, clearly not very appreciative of David's musical skills.

"You won that one, you wanna deal or should I?" Let Michael feel good, think he's gonna win, and then pull it out from under him. He really was naive if he honestly believed he had a chance, though.

Michael snatched up the cards and immediately began to shuffle, looking at David thoughtfully, "you're wrong about me, you know."

"I am?" He hummed again, "What am I wrong about?"

"I'm not one of you. I'm not a killer. I beat you once, and I can do it again." Michael looked down at the deck and bridged the cards, swiftly snapping them down before he began to deal.

"Do you remember your last words to me last night? Before you passed out." He waited patiently for him to deal them out. Michael may have been quick at shuffling, but the way he passed the cards out was painfully slow. He was doing it on purpose, drawing this out, avoiding thinking about the fact that he really is a killer. He laid out two cards each before pausing, and sweeping them back into his hands, placing them down again, even slower than the first time. David raised an eyebrow, "Don't wanna lose?" He grinned, licking his lips slowly, "Or do you think they need to be shuffled one more time?" He thought about 'accidentally' cutting his finger, bring the scent of blood into the air. But then, Michael finally finished dealing out the cards.

"You're distracting me," Michael grumbled. "Gotta focus…"

"You're distracting yourself." He looked at his cards.

"I'm not the one humming a god damned Kenny Rogers song, David."

"Song's a classic." He tossed his cards, "Three."

"One," Michael stated flatly, before looking up at David, " _Desperado_ is a classic. _The Dealer_ is a classic. _The Gambler_ is a bullshit piece of crap sung by a fat, bearded idiot."

"You done? Gonna show your hand or continue to complain about my choice in card songs?"

"Two jacks," Michael tossed his hand down and leaned back, crossing his arms. "Your turn."

He smirked, chuckling, "Full house." He tossed his hand down. Michael's jaw dropped for a moment, but he recovered quickly, shrugging.

"We've still got one more round." He wasn't going to give up without a fight. Even if it was only a card fight.

David took the deck, shuffling them slowly, drawing out every bridge, every move of the cards, "You ready for this, Michael?" Was it just his imagination, or was the kid breaking into a sweat? But Michael wasn't looking at the cards. He was looking at David's wrist after he dealt them, before his eyes quickly flicked away towards his hand as he scooped them up. The kid was getting hungry, this would be fun, "How many?"

"I…" Michael licked his bottom lip. He seemed to do that whenever he was nervous. "...Five." He laid down his full hand.

David nodded, giving him a new hand, "One." He replaced his card, "Ready? This is it." Michael quickly scooped up his cards…

"Yeah...three kings. Two tens." Michael dropped his hand to the ground, a satisfied smile on his face.

David slowly laid his cards down, "Straight flush."

"THAT'S BULLSHIT, DAVID!"

He crossed his arms over his chest, "Look for yourself." He motioned to the cards, and as he did so, Michael's hand lashed out to grab at his wrist, as he glared at the blonde's coat sleeve.

"You cheated. You've got cards up there...I know it."

He shrugged his coat off, slitting his wrist slightly as he pulled it off, "See any cards?" He showed his arms, blood sliding over his skin. He watched Michael's gaze move to the wound, "Want it?" The halfling's heart rate immediately sped up as he stared at the trail of blood, and for a moment he looked as if he wanted to give in. But he didn't. Instead, he closed his eyes and took a labored breath, scrambling to his feet and turning his back on David.

"Cover it up," Michael rasped, rubbing at his face.

"What?" He slid closer, feigning ignorance, "Cover what up?" The smell of blood filled the air, calling to him with it's dark siren song.

Michael spun about, fists clenched, drawing them up defensively, "you know what I'm talking about, _David_."

"Tell me, tell me what you want." He moved close, enough they were almost touching. Michael quickly took a step back, as if he was being penned in by the bed behind him and David in front.

"I want you...to leave me the fuck...alone…" Michael ground out, nostrils flaring as he picked up the scent of the blood, fighting it at the same time as he wanted to give in to the urge to drink.

"You're lying, tell me what you really want." He stated calmly. And that was what did it. Michael decked him right in the face with as much strength as he could muster. Which, admittedly, was pretty good for a human _or_ halfling. David caught his fist, twisting him around and pinning him to the bed in one smooth motion, " _I'm_ the boss here, not you." He bit into his throat, groaning as the taste of his blood hit his tongue. Rich and warm. The kid didn't know what he was missing. Michael screamed and struggled in his grip, trying to push him away. Still so full of anger and defiance.

He growled lowly into his throat, keeping him pinned, waiting for the moment of submission. Waiting for Michael to give up. He laid over him, his bloodied wrist smearing a line of red across Michael's skin as he drank slowly. It seemed to take a bit longer than it should. David couldn't even remember Dwayne being this difficult in the beginning. Then again, he hadn't had to go to nearly the lengths with the others as Michael was forcing him to do. Not that he wasn't enjoying every minute of it. Plus, hey...he got dinner and a show tonight. Not too shabby. After what seemed like several minutes, in which he realized he was smart not to drink too quickly, Michael relaxed somewhat in his grip. Partially in submission, and partially because the loss of blood was beginning to get to him. Which made the scent of David's own that much more alluring. He held up his wrist in offering, partial submission was a start at least. He could have a little drink for being a good boy.

A tongue sluggishly darted out to lick at David's wound, and he released one of Michael's arms so he could grip the wrist to his mouth and drink. But this wasn't the reluctant feeding he'd had the night before. His body knew what it wanted now better than Michael, and he was practically digging his teeth into the skin to get as much as he could, new fangs finally beginning to cut through his gums to make the task a little bit easier. David groaned softly, this was what he had been waiting for. Michael _wanted_ it, _needed_ it, was right where David wanted him. He let out a pleased hum into his skin, a low purr to let the instincts raising up in Michael to know his master, his pack leader, his maker, was pleased with him. And little by little, a small piece of the boy's humanity seemed to have chipped away when he finally completely relaxed, licking at David's wrist as the skin began to heal, and David pulled back from his throat, giving the wound gentle licks to soothe the damaged flesh. There were definite perks to making a turn as slow and delicious as this one. Too bad he couldn't act on them immediately.

Michael crawled onto the bed, pulling away from David and drawing his knees up to his chest, facing the wall. He had nothing left to say, and no more punches to throw, for now.

David took out another bottle of water and left it on the bed before leaving without a word. None needed to be said, Michael had submitted and new instincts were forming. He would come again tomorrow night and see what happened. Perhaps Michael would be in a better mood and if not, well, David could still have some fun. The exchange tonight had pushed him further than he'd been the last time around. Now he'd get to see what he was really missing out on, when he tried to turn down David's offer. Lucky for him, there really was no turning back. No matter how hard he tried.

* * *

Grandpa was in his shop, absently working on a raccoon while he thought about all the possibilities that could have happened to Michael. Something had been wrong that night. Something in the air had smelled rank, like death. It was a scent he had become all too familiar with and one that lingered around the undead. More than fifty damned years in Santa Carla had taught him as much. Sometimes he honestly wondered why he stuck around here, but this was home and he had no intention of leaving, not at his age.

No word from Michael yet. No word from his jackass of a father. Even his girlie hadn't mentioned anything about getting a call...as often as the boy was out with her, it seemed like she'd be the first one to know anything. When he noticed a stream of yellow light pouring over the dim red of his workshop table, he sat up and turned around to find his youngest grandson standing in the doorway.

"Well, get in here. Looks like some thing's bothering you. Have a sit down and tell me what's wrong." He motioned toward a folding chair against the wall. He kept it there for just such an occasion. Frankly, they seemed to arise a lot these days. Sam was a chatterbox, even when he was in a good mood. He didn't doubt with Michael gone, the boy would talk his ear off. Maybe he could pretend his hearing was starting to go…

"Grandpa, I've been having... _bad_ dreams. About Mike," Sam murmured, flopping down into the folding chair.

That made him freeze. Gone was the idea of tuning him out, "Bad dreams?" He prompted, needed more information before he fully decided what kind of problem this was or if it even was a problem at all.

"Dreams about Michael…" He swallowed hard, "Him being a vampire…"

"Do you think they mean anything or just leftovers from the, uhh, incident." It took him a minute to remember what Lucy and them had been calling it.

Sam shook his head, "I dunno, I didn't start having them though until the other night, when Michael left to go to Arizona."

The night that smelled of death, the night Michael had left, the night Sam's nightmares started. Grandpa sighed, "I think something's wrong. Haven't heard from Michael, little worried he didn't make it to Arizona but we can't know for sure." He hated to say this, "We have to wait and see." He paused, "Maybe we should go to that hotel where we buried them." No one was around to revive them...right?

Nodding, Sam smiled weakly, "I think...that's a good idea." He stood up from his chair and crossed to the door, pausing and turning back to face the old man, "grandpa?"

"Yes, Sam?" He looked up at him.

"What're we gonna do if they...if somehow they're not buried...anymore?" Sam asked awkwardly, fiddling with the bottom of his shirt.

Now that was a sobering thought, "I don't know." His voice came out in a soft whisper, "I just don't know."

"I'll call Ed and Alan," Sam mumbled, closing the door behind him.

He hoped he was wrong. He hoped that those graves were still intact but if they weren't, god save them all.

* * *

Grandpa Emerson powered his little jalopy down towards Hudson's bluff, grumbling to himself. The fact that those boys had taken his baby out here on a joyride still didn't sit right with him, even if it was for a 'good cause'. They damn well could have used this one instead...better on rough terrain, and he'd be a lot less heartbroken if there was a mudslide out by the disaster area.

"You boys ready for this? If there's something wrong there, I'm gonna tell you right now to go back home and keep yourself prepared for a fight. But don't come seeking it out, you hear me? That's the last thing we need. If they're back and they ain't done nothin' yet, better to hope they won't than to try and get them to come for you…" He paused, "Especially after the way you took them out…"

"Can't make any promises," Edgar grunted, leaning forward in the back seat and flinching when they hit a particularly rough patch. The old man was driving pretty fast.

"If you boys don't make that promise I'll turn this car around." He stated, his voice rough.

Sam elbowed Ed in the stomach, "just don't argue, dumbass."

"You just want us to let vampires take over the city?!" Alan demanded. They'd both recovered fairly nicely from whatever episode Sam had told him they were having at their shop, apparently. Just as sassy as they were when they dug through the second shelf of his damned fridge.

"They're not gonna take over. _If_ they're back, they ain't done nothin' and _if_ they're back they never took over the town in the century or so they been here so make the damn promise and stick to it."

"Alright." Edgar nodded, "I promise. No defending Santa Carla. No making sure bloodsuckers aren't gonna come and kill us in the middle of the night. Nothing." he held his hand behind his back, and the old man didn't doubt he had his fingers crossed. It would have to do for the moment, they were almost there.

"So...this is where they live, huh?" Grandpa Emerson harrumphed as he pulled his vehicle into park, "looks like the kinda place you'd see vampires hanging around. Not much for anyplace with lights or doors. Lot more like animals than people, come to think of it." He got out of the jeep, climbing out and heading for the stairs down. At least they were in decent repair, "You boys go first." He was getting too old for this shit. Better to get his exercise with the widow than stomping around a god damned cave.

"Alright," Edgar grunted, pulling Alan and Sam in for a pow-wow. "Things are gonna get pretty nasty in there if they're back and know we're coming for them...probably have traps all over the place…"

Sam sighed, "I'm going down there, gonna get it over with. Like pulling off a bandaid." He pulled away from the group and headed down the stairs. Okay, so his show of courage was probably ill-advised but now that he'd done it he had to carry through. He stepped into the hotel, swallowing hard as he looked around, waiting for the others.

"Would you guys hurry up!" He tried to keep the panic out of his voice, this place was creepy. Suddenly, he was shoved to the ground by two bodies slamming into his back. Edgar and Alan. They'd tripped, and apparently wanted to drag a third person down with them.

"Watch out!" Edgar shouted, superfluously. They were already on the dirt floor at this point, tangled together.

"Ed! Alan!" Sam exclaimed, pushing them away and dragging himself back to his feet as he dusted off his pants. "Man...you got dirt on my shirt!" He shouted, dusting at his clothes Grandpa Emerson slowly drew into the lobby, glancing around.

The four mounds that surrounded the fountain were the same as when they'd left them. Undisturbed.

"Oh thank god…" Alan gasped, grasping at his chest and looking about manically, then shoving his brother off of him. He was apparently a lot more scared than he'd let on.

"See, nothing to worry about. Told you." Edgar grunted, standing up and gazing around with a thin-lipped smile, "once the Frogs put you down...there's no hopping back!"

Sam looked at him, "seriously, Ed? How long have you been waiting to use that one?"

Alan shrugged, "I think he came up with it like...the week after we offed them."

"In the shower," Edgar agreed, nodding, and acting as if his shitty pun was the wisest thing ever spoken by man.

Grandpa still felt like there was something off, but he wasn't about to dig then up to double check, "Let's go home boys, maybe there's something else going on."

Sam looked doubtful, but he shrugged and nodded towards the exit. The Frog brothers, for all their bluster, were the first ones gone.


	5. Chapter 5: Letters and Loss

Michael paced the room. It was night now, he knew it. Didn't know how, other than the fact that he was thrumming with energy, but he _did_ know. And David still wasn't here. He wasn't too sure he wanted to see the son of a bitch, but he was hungry. And thirsty. Even if it meant agreeing to that stupid little rule David had told him the first night there, Michael _needed_ to eat. At least, he should. Frankly, a small voice in his head told him he was losing his appetite for food…

How long had it been since the sun went down? An hour? Two? Where the fuck was he? Michael stopped pacing and punched the wall in frustration, pulling back and examining his bloodied knuckles. At least he didn't want to drink his own god damned blood. He wondered why it didn't hurt as much as it should...then lowered his fist and rubbed it off on his jeans. His clothes were beginning to get pretty grimey. There was no telling what he must look like now.

"Son of a bitch…" Michael huffed, leaning against the wall and sliding down to the ground in defeat. He was sure he could fly now...could probably find his way across that pit...but then, wouldn't the others be waiting for him on the other side? Could he take them on? Not really. Shit, it was just dumb luck when he'd killed David the first time around, if he was being honest with himself. This. Sucked.

"Good evening, Michael, how're you tonight?" It always seemed to start the same way. There was something in his hand, a paper bag from some fast food place, but food nonetheless. Michael reached out to take it from him, knowing it would taste ten times worse if he decided to make a point and avoid eating it until tomorrow.

"Peachy. How about you, Dracula?" Michael looked up at him, scowling.

"Well, seems you got your mouth back at least." He handed the bag over, "Night's going good. Off to a decent start, thanks for asking." It seemed like no matter what Michael did, David would continue to reply to everything with a fucking smile. Well...fine. Whatever. He could be just as infuriatingly nice, too. Wasn't sure how that would honestly get David to act _normal_ , but then again, he wasn't really sure David even had a normal setting.

"How long are you going to do this?" Michael asked, opening the bag and gazing at the contents. Fries so greasy they made the paper around them darker, and a burger pressed so flat it looked like a hockey puck. Five star dining.

"Sorry I couldn't get you anything better tonight, Chinese is easier but hey, everybody needs a change now and then." He sat down, relaxing, "Water?" He pulled a bottle out of his coat, offering it to him. Michael took it and set it down beside him.

"Thanks," he gritted out, unwrapping the burger and taking a vicious bite. It tasted like ashes on his tongue, and he was sure that had nothing to do with the quality of the food. But he made himself continue to chew and swallow. No matter what, he wasn't going to give up on staying as human as he could until he figured out a way to kill David. He picked up the bottle and unscrewed the lid, taking a deep gulp...holding back a grimace. It tasted funny. "Did you do anything to this?" He asked, glaring up at David suspiciously.

"Nope, nothing. Was still sealed, wasn't it? What's wrong with it?" He looked concerned, of course it was probably a trick but he seemed sincere. He should have gone into acting. Probably eat the box office workers, though…

"Tastes funny," Michael shrugged, taking another gulp. Didn't matter. Better than the alternative. He quickly finished off the burger and shoved the wrapper into the bag, not bothering to touch the fries. That should be enough to keep him going. He was going to gag if he tried to eat anything else.

"Can I get you anything else?" He examined his nails, "For next time, any requests?" He lit up a cigarette, closing his eyes for a moment before breathing out. Michael couldn't help himself. When David wasn't looking at him, he kept his eyes focused on his neck...there was blood under that skin...rushing like a river. Even if his skin wasn't cut, Michael could practically smell it. Practically taste it. He frowned and made himself look away.

"Not good at picking stuff unless I see a menu. Maybe you should take me to the boardwalk, and I'll pick for myself?" He asked, propping his chin up on his hand while he drained the rest of the bottled water.

David laughed as if it was funniest joke in the world, "Yeah, not happening, how about a specific type of food? Anything you've been _craving_?" He paused, "Or anything besides food?"

"What do you mean?" Oh, he knew what he meant alright. But saying it was a lot different than implying it. And Michael really resented how much he wanted it, too.

He shrugged, "Just offering." He held out the cigarette. It seemed like the bastard was going to make him say it. For a moment, Michael wondered whether he was really offering the cigarette at all, or his wrist...and it wasn't like he'd be killing anyone if he _did_ ask, Michael reasoned with himself. It would...it would at least ease the thirst clawing at his throat. And the thoughts rushing through his head right now about the nightmare he'd had last night. The nightmare, which was no different from any of the others he'd had again and again, except...god, he'd actually enjoyed it.

"I…" Michael closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Fuck. David was such an asshole. "I'd like some...god damn it, you know what I want, David."

"Well, you can't get it from over there." He motioned him closer, using a claw to slit his wrist, "You want it, come get it." Michael tried to scowl at him, but he just didn't have the energy to do anything else right now besides focus on the blood...was this what his life was turning into? A nightly ritual of having what could only be described as the world's most disgusting addiction? Because that was definitely what this was turning into. Otherwise he could just turn away and ignore it...he didn't even realize when his lips were already pressed up against David's wrist, fangs cutting into the skin to worry at the cut. His nostrils flared and he let out an unconscious groan as he drank.

David's fingers gently slid through his hair, it was kind of soothing. He was speaking softly but he couldn't really make out what was being said. Not that it really mattered. For whatever reason, it calmed him further, made him relax and drink, savoring the rich red liquid that came from David's wrist. As he sank into a pool of bliss, he idly wondered whether this was really that terrible at all. Later, he'd be horrified at himself for even entertaining the thought, if even only for a moment.

Eventually David carefully pulled his wrist away, "Enough." He said softly, "You've had plenty."

Michael stared at him, dazed for a moment before he slammed himself back against the wall and sighed. This felt too good right now to even snap out some kind of retort. He just wanted to let the wave rush over him, and forget for just a moment...just a moment...David let him, didn't move, didn't speak, just let him lose himself for a little while. Forget about his problems, forget about the blood, about how he didn't want it but at the same time he _needed_ it.

Distantly, he wondered how long he'd be able to handle this before he gave up. The fact that the thought even entered his mind was sobering. "Why couldn't you just let me go?" Michael whispered, licking his lips.

* * *

Watching Michael lose himself in the blood was like watching a beautiful sunset. Well, what he remembered of them at least. It was amazing. He had never taken this much time with a halfling before. The other boys hadn't lost themselves the same way Michael was. Oh, he could never let this go, never let him go. The possessiveness he felt was overwhelming, he needed to keep him. This was becoming an obsession and honestly, he had no intention of letting this one go.

"Why can't I let you go?" He paused, thinking about it. Why couldn't he? He just...couldn't, "You know that moment when you see something and you just...know? You know that one day it will be yours, one way or another." He took a slow drag, thinking for a moment as he looked up at the ceiling, "We run off instinct. When we have a sense about something, we go after it. When we get a feeling about someone, we chase after it, never let it go. It's simple. Base. Raw. I knew, looking at you during that race, I knew what you were. I knew what you had inside you. I knew that you were meant to be part of my pack."

Michael remained silent, listening for once. And then he laughed...and then he let his head fall forward, and he silently wept. Probably the last time he'd ever know how.

He sighed, turning his gaze to the halfling, "You'll understand." He paused, "You might already, at least on some level." He felt a twinge of sympathy for the brunette, "I know it doesn't help, I know it doesn't change things, but I'm sorry you were dragged into this in the first place."

Squinting up at him, the halfling really had nothing to say. He didn't believe him. The words didn't ease anything. "Just...go away, David. Go away."

David got to his feet, "I'll bring you something fresh to wear tomorrow night." He started to walk away, would leave him to his thoughts, well, mostly, unless he tried to do something stupid, "Goodnight, Michael."

He didn't expect Michael to reply, which was what made him pause for just a moment when he heard a soft whisper, "goodnight, David…"

* * *

Paul crouched in front of the old typewriter, chewing on a peppermint toothpick, "okay...look at this one…" He grinned, yanking the paper out of the machine and slapping it on the ground for the others to examine.

 _Dear mommy,_

 _I've decided to start a new life in Puerto Rico. I'm becoming a transexual prostitute. Don't bother writing._

 _Love, your daughter,_

 _Fifi Cochina._

"How about that, eh? Best shit you've read since Faulkner!" Paul waggled his eyebrows, flicking the toothpick to the ground, dumbly proud of the letter he'd written to drop off at the Emerson's mailbox. They'd smelt the little fucks scent lingering around the lobby when they woke up, and it had been Dwayne's ideas to leave the fake graves for them. Wouldn't do to let anyone find out they were back until they were good and ready, anyway. This little message would be another piece to throw them off the trail.

Marko rolled his eyes, "My turn." He cracked his knuckles, sticking his tongue out of the side of his mouth in concentration as he started to type.

 _Dear mom,_

 _I've decided that I just need to get away for awhile. Hell is beautiful this time of year. Don't call me, I'll call you._

 _Michael_

"Read it and weep!" He tossed the paper at Paul. Dwayne craned over behind the rocker to examine Marko's masterpiece, and just shook his head with a snort.

"Here...I'm gonna give it a shot," he sighed, stepping over and shoving Marko over before he crouched down to begin typing.

 _Mom,_

 _I know this is crazy, and I'm sorry. I don't really know why I did this, but I had to. I started driving in one direction, then I just found myself going another. I can't get my head straight. Before I knew it, my tank was tapped out, and I wasn't anywhere near where I'd planned to go. So I filled up, and just kept going...ended up in this town. It's nice. I'll call you when I figure out what I'm going to do. I'm sorry._

 _Michael_

 _P.S. Yeah. It's called Hell...but don't worry about it. I thought it was kind of funny._

"How about that?" He yanked the paper out, flicking it with his thumb and index finger, "I think we have a winner."

Marko and Paul looked disappointed, "Yeah, you win." Marko grumbled.

Paul frowned, "Mine was better." He huffed, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Yours was shit, Paul. Totally unbelievable." Marko rolled his eyes, "At least he kept my city choice!"

"He's got the lips to be a chick," Paul defended himself. "Not my fault you're not more open-minded." He let his head fall back and grinned over at David on his 'throne', the wheelchair. "Hey, Davey, when you gonna let us see him, huh? Getting real curious..."

"Not any time soon, he's not ready yet but I'm working on him, couple weeks maybe?" He picked at his nails.

Marko shook his head, "I don't get it, man. All you gotta do is bring him someone to munch on, cut them up a bit if he's being a baby about it...why are you dragging it out?"

"It'll be better this way, gotta make him fall on his own. You know how stubborn he is. This way the instincts will take over and he'll become the perfect pack mate."

"The perfect pod person?" Paul teased, climbing up onto the fountain and reclining on his side. "Took your ass five minutes to make Marko eat. You saying you fucked up with him? You hear that, Marko? You're Davey's little fuck-up."

David growled softly, "If anyone's the fuck up it's you. You kept trying to feed but couldn't get your stupid fangs to drop." He gave him the finger, "Just wait until I'm done with him, you'll see that this was the best way to do it." Speaking of Michael, he really should head over for his nightly visit, "Michael got his to drop already so he already has a one up on you, Paul."

"So, is this how you're going to do it from now on, then? If you decide to add on later? Or…" Dwayne looked thoughtful, "just a special case?"

"Special case unless it turns out to be the best way to turn someone ever. I keep having to bring him food and now clothes, a lot of resources." He paused, getting to his feet, "I'm going to head that way, go play with your food or the Frogs or whatever." He waved them off, "Have fun." He headed back to the caves, leaving them to their own devices, probably the most dangerous thing he could have done.

Michael wasn't on the bed, when David got there...nor was he sitting down. In fact, he was standing directly in what had once been the doorway, impatient. Waiting for him, perhaps? David narrowed his eyes slightly as he approached, "Good evening, Michael, how're you tonight?"

"I'm getting tired of this shit," Michael replied, seemingly back to his old self. Or putting on a front, at least. "I want to get out of here."

"And do what? Go where?" He questioned, "What do you think would happen if you went out around people right now?"

Averting his eyes, Michael pulled away from the door and walked into the room, "nothing. I wouldn't do anything," he lied. To himself. He couldn't lie to David, after all. Even if he couldn't read the halfling's mind, they'd exchanged enough blood right now for him to actually _feel_ whether Michael was telling the truth or not. And right now, he definitely wasn't.

"Liar." He stated, crossing his arms over his chest, he stepped into the room after him, "Tell me the truth, what do you want, right now." He leaned against the wall, "I want to hear the truth."

Michael remained silent, sitting down on the edge of the old bed, feigning disinterest in David, as if he'd suddenly found a remarkably fascinating speck of dust on his shoe he couldn't tear his gaze from.

David shrugged, "If you don't want to talk about it, if you don't want to _get_ it, then I'll see you tomorrow night." He turned, ready to walk away. He knew what Michael wanted and he wasn't going to get it without David.

Michael dug his fingers into the mattress behind him, looking up at David, and it was clear that the very thought of _not_ getting a healthy dose tonight very well could break him, "I…" He hesitated, taking a deep breath and steeling himself. And he didn't say anything else. _Still_ stubborn, and _still_ defiant...

David stopped in the doorway, "Yes?" He glanced at him over his shoulder.

" _I want it…"_ Michael mumbled under his breath.

"Tell me what you want, exactly what you want. If you don't say you'll get nothing." Oh, he knew what it was, but he wasn't going to give it to him unless he begged. But Michael didn't say anything else, he simply pursed his lips and waited, knuckles white as he clutched at the blankets beneath him even tighter, almost shaking as he fought with himself. David took another step forward, "Good night, Michael."

"David!" Michael shouted, standing up, taking a step after him. "Blood, okay? I want...blood…" Despite himself, and his own self-loathing was clear in his eyes, Michael fell to his knees. "Please…"

David turned, moving to stand in front of him, "I couldn't quite hear that, mind repeating yourself, tell me what you want one more time." He was infuriatingly calm as he looked at the brunette, waiting to see just how badly he wanted it.

Taking a deep breath, the halfling looked back up at him, very much on the verge of telling him where to shove his condescending bullshit, but knowing that would probably get him nothing but a night without...a night with nothing but his own nightmares to keep him company, torment him and stoke the hunger that seemed to grow stronger every passing moment. "Please, David…" Michael lowered his eyes and tilted his head in submission, though still reluctant. "I want your blood...I _need_ it."

He moved over to the bed, relaxing back, "If you want it, you take from here." He stated, sliding a claw over his own throat, splitting the skin.

"What?!" Michael balked, climbing to his feet on shaking legs.

He motioned to the blood welling up over his skin, "From my throat, you want it, you come over here and take it." It wasn't long before the scent weaseled it's way into Michael's very bones, pressuring him, pulling him to the bed. He wasn't strong enough to fight it anymore. Not with so much at the ready, straight from the source…

David's fingers were in his hair the moment his cool lips sealed over the wound. The vampire relaxed under him as he began to drink, the blood rushing into his mouth. Michael groaned helplessly, pressing his lips as hard as he could against David's throat, hands moving of their own volition to press against his maker's chest as he drank, those fingers in his hair coaxed and cajoled him into drinking more, massaging gently, urging him to take what he needed. And he did. But drinking so intimately was causing something else to build up within the halfling, and if he weren't so desperately thirsty...he'd probably be pretty upset to realize he was pressing his hips against David's, rocking into them urgently. David pressed up against him in return but seemed able to control his desire, stop himself from thrusting into the pressure of another body. The halfling was definitely going to need fresh clothes after this. David pressed his thigh up against Michael's straining length, giving him that little bit of extra pressure.

Michael gasped, pulling away from David's throat, licking the blood from his lips and taking in several deep breaths, closing his eyes and moaning as he came, falling back down to lick and nuzzle at David's throat, cleaning it more thoroughly than he would a plate. David stroked down his spine, relaxed, letting him come down on his own. Each night, the blood was taking stronger hold over him, making the moments of lucidity afterwards that much less stark and angry. Michael hardly even understood what had just occurred, beyond the lethargy from a satisfying meal. It just felt instinctual.

"I brought you some fresh clothes." David said softly, petting down his spine slowly. Michael nodded, disinterested as he moved over until he was lying beside him, still moving to press his face close to his neck and inhale his maker's scent.

"Hm," Michael replied, "that's nice." Then he opened up bleary golden eyes and ran his tongue over his teeth, looking a little confused and pulling away from David to sit up.

He chuckled softly, pulling out a t-shirt and comfortable pants, "Here, you're gonna be uncomfortable in a little bit." Michael reached out to take them with one hand while he continued to run his tongue along his teeth, growing more and more distressed by the second, the high from the blood seeming to fade a little quicker than it should.

"What's…" Michael exclaimed, flustered, "they're not going away!"

David raised an eyebrow, "Your eyes are still gold too, good look on you."

"Fuck you!" Michael covered his mouth, back to his old angry self again. How short-lived his good moods seemed to be. "Why aren't they going back?!" He was switching into full-on panic mode now. Even going so far as to use the pads of his thumbs to try and press at his fangs.

"You're about ready to take the next step, to make your kill." He said calmly. Michael only glared at him in turn before squinting down at his thumbs, which he had thoroughly shredded in his attempts to perform clumsy vampire dental surgery.

"No. Not gonna kill," Michael grumbled, climbing off of the bed and tearing angrily at his sweater until he'd tossed it to the ground and leaned over to snatch up the shirt David had brought him.

He shrugged, "Then we'll wait until you are." He paused, "Because you will be one day. Sooner than later."

"What the fuck happened to my pants?!" Michael shouted, when he'd finally gotten to work changing the rest of his clothes, fangs momentarily forgotten.

David grinned, "Well, you're a teenager still, doesn't surprise me you came in your pants." He teased.

* * *

"Sam, is she here yet?" Lucy called out from the kitchen, examining Michael's letter. Something wasn't right. This wasn't like him _at all_. Maybe they'd had a fight and just kept it to themselves, or maybe Michael had done something he was ashamed of….

Sam shook his head, "No, quit asking!"

"Don't you raise your voice to me, Samuel Emerson!" Lucy called back to him, a warning note in her voice. He'd gotten just as mouthy as his grandfather lately. Maybe they were spending too much time together.

She looked back at the letter in her hand and sighed. There was just no understanding teenagers, no matter how old they got.

* * *

That day, Michael dreamt. It was the same dream as before. Except...the boy he argued with in his bedroom had no face. The comics had no names. The words had no meaning. Pieces and bits of the room were completely blank, and no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't fill them in. He couldn't remember them. And then he was chasing the faceless boy down a hallway, like he always did, and standing with the others staring down at himself on the ground. He couldn't understand why that version of himself was so upset. But he didn't much care either, because he was hungry…

* * *

"Rise and shine, Michael!" David was in a good mood tonight as he walked into the room and woke him up at just the wrong moment. Michael leapt from the bed, and launched himself at David. There was going to be no begging tonight...he was hungry. He needed it. Didn't want to talk.

David snarled, grabbing him inches before his fangs could connect with his skin, throwing his weight forward to twist the halfling beneath him. He didn't think he'd have to exert his dominance so soon, but hey, this could be fun. There was no way Michael was going to get one over on him. He was the pack leader here, he was his maker, and he would just have to prove that to him. The brunette struggled in David's grasp, hissing and spitting, half-mad with hunger and an interrupted dream. Getting through to him right now would be no easy feat.

The vampire growled lowly in his ear, pressing his body down against him and driving his fangs into the back of his neck. This wasn't for feeding, this was dominance, plain and simple. Maybe he was going to have to acquire Michael's meal sooner than he thought, but in a way it was on Michael when he would finally feed. When he was finally ready to feed. Gradually, the halfling began to settle down, breathing frantically as he tried to force his body to still. Clearly, it wasn't easy, with the thirst roaring inside him. Begging to be satisfied. With a soft growl of encouragement, David brought his wrist to the halfling's mouth, urging him to bite now that he had submitted.

Michael immediately drove his fangs into the skin, a satisfied purr rumbling deep in his chest as he drank, tore into the muscle and veins, more vicious than he'd been before. Desperately trying to get as much blood as he could. David growled lowly in warning, tightening his teeth around the back of his neck, letting him drink for a time before pulling his wrist away, still keeping his flesh trapped between his teeth to make sure that Michael would stay submissive and relaxed while he took his wrist away. The brunette huffed in frustration beneath him, but remained still, licking at his fangs to clean and taste every last remaining drop.

He slowly pulled away, "Easy there, Michael." He ran his tongue over his lips, "I think it's time for you to feed." He stated calmly, waiting for a reply, to see what he would do. Michael pulled himself to his knees, crawling a few feet away from David and slumping against the wall so he could face him with a defiant frown.

"Not. Killing. Ever." He wasn't in his right mind for complete sentences right now, but he made his point.

"You don't have a choice. Either you kill or I bring you Sam, or Star, or Lucy for your first meal; you will feed, because right now you attacked me the moment I came through that door. What do you think you'd do to a human?"

Michael's eyes widened, and he gazed at David, "Sam…" He repeated the word, struggling to dredge up an image. A face. He knew who Sam was...and Star...and Lucy. He knew them. His brother, and his girlfriend, and his mom...but...he couldn't picture them. A whole new wave of fear washed over him, mingling with the still-palpable thirst, and he began to shake his head violently as he pressed the flats of his palms to his eyes.

"I can't...I can't remember them!" His cry was raw and practically feral as everything seemed to click into place. He was forgetting himself…

"Easy." David laid his hands on his shoulders, "I promise that if you feed, they'll be safe. No one'll eat them, not even you. It's your choice. What do you want to do, Michael?" His voice was calm, soothing, like he was talking to a wild animal; well, he practically was.

Slowly lowering his hands, Michael gazed at him, either on the verge of trying to run or attack him from sheer panic, "how do I know you'll keep your promise?" He demanded.

"I'm your pack leader, I'm your maker, I'll never lie to you. It's my job to keep us safe and happy. I keep my promises to my pack mates." David reached into one of his pockets and pulled out a glittering earring, "So, what's it gonna be? Join us fully now or run the risk of eating your brother."

Michael's golden eyes flicked down to David's hand, and back up to his face, before slowly, wordlessly...he tilted his head to the side, reaching up to push his hair back away from his ear. He didn't want to, but he made the choice. The only choice. Even if he was quickly learning he wouldn't give a shit about them later, he'd do this for them now. A final gesture. And somehow, he knew David wasn't lying to him. Without a word, his maker pushed the earring through the half-healed hole. Michael winced slightly, but remained silent at the sudden 'pop' of skin tearing to re-accomodate the symbol of his new life. Or, at least, the death of his old one.

"I'll be back with something for you to eat." David said softly, getting to his feet and walking out; he'd be back with his first meal soon, leaving him to his thoughts.

As he reached up to rub at his earlobe, Michael focused on laying out the memories he had left. Pulling each and every one of them out to examine them, treasure them before they were gone forever. He had a feeling even these partial pieces, these puzzles would be gone once he really fed. Summers spent in Pheonix being drug to the shopping mall by his mom to get new shoes that never fit, days of endless chatter and spring-time road trips, weekends fighting angrily with Sam over television rights...he'd always won, of course. Funny, even though he couldn't even picture their faces or hear their voices, and even though they were mostly just pieces of mundane events...just thinking about what he had left was so incredibly precious. Too precious to forget...

"Hold on to them," Michael told himself softly, panting as he dug his fingers into his palms and claws began to slowly form, cutting the flesh down to the bone. "Don't let them go…"

And finally, drawing it out like a phantom thread, delicate, subject to fade with the brush of a passing gust of wind, he remembered that day on the beach with Sam, with Alan and Edgar, with Laddie...and...Star. The last thing she'd said to him on the phone, before he rushed out to the car to finish packing. She had a surprise...he let the last tear he'd ever have drip down his cheek as he pondered what on earth that surprise could have been.

David wasn't gone for long and the young woman he had slung over his shoulder was passed out, "Going over the chasm isn't for everyone." He chuckled softly, laying her down. He froze, seeing that tear. A conflicted look flitted across his face before he decided against saying anything. He wasn't going to draw attention to that tear, "Everything will be better once you feed." He tipped her head to the side, revealing the arch of her neck.

Michael was drawn forward by the sight, even as he tried with every last ounce of strength he had inside himself to stall, to solidify one final image of Star in his mind, lowering his face to the girl's throat. Dumb realization dawned on him before he drove his fangs into her skin, an idea of exactly what sort of surprise Star might have been planning...she'd been putting on a little weight. And then he didn't know what he was thinking about, and the names of everyone he knew and loved, everyone before and after the pack melted away into darkness. He was lost. Now and forever, he was one of the Lost Boys.


	6. Chapter 6: Adjusting

Marko and Paul were wrestling playfully on the ground, punching and kicking at each other while Dwayne just sat on the couch and tossed small rocks at them to throw off their concentration. Marko was gnawing and drooling on Paul's hand by the time David showed up.

Dwayne glanced over at him curiously, "that was fast. Usually you stay back there for a couple of hours...something go wrong?" There was no sign of Michael. No sign of the girl either. Maybe his little experiment had failed.

David grinned at them, "No, no, nothing went wrong." He motioned back the way he'd come, "Michael, come meet your brothers." He stated calmly, eyes still locked on the boys. He had won and it felt so, very, good. His newly-turned fledgling slowly strolled up behind him, hands tucked into his pants pockets as he glanced around...eyes landing on his stuff nestled neatly in a corner.

"Who cracked my stereo?" He asked, frowning. A little moody at the discovery, but otherwise perfectly relaxed.

Marko sat up, wiping off his mouth and pointing down at Paul. Paul sputtered, "Wasn't my fault! It didn't work when it got here!" Of course Paul really had broken it.

David strode over to his chair, settling into it, glancing at Dwayne with a smile, "So, what do you think?" The other vampire shrugged in response, not really having much to say. If he did, it would only draw Michael's attention. One of them or not, he'd wait until he had a better idea whether or not the younger vampire had a short fuse before he started talking about him like a pet project.

"So, umm, Mikey, how're you doin'? Had a good meal?" Marko looked up at him from his place on the floor, unsure of what was going through his new brother's mind. The changes from turning were a little unpredictable sometimes, time to see how much Michael had changed.

Michael looked at him thoughtfully, then glanced over at his pile of belongings, and crossed towards them, kneeling down and picking through a box of things, "had a headache for a bit...but it's gone now," he shrugged, picking out a picture and examining it before tossing it behind him. The glass in the frame shattered over Star's grinning face. Then he seemed to find what he was looking for, and smirked as he stood up with a copy of a Baseball magazine. "Why?" He glanced back at Marko, scowling slightly, "there's none left…"

"None what?" He cocked his head to the side, "What're you looking for?"

Michael held up his magazine and gave Marko a funny look, "why do you care?" He immediately went on the defense, "I'm not giving you anything...apparently you guys just like breaking my shit."

Paul yawned, leaning up against Marko and yanking on his braid, "you hear that? Mikey doesn't like to share!" He feigned offense. The only member of the pack who didn't seem to be bothered or concerned at all about how their new member would behave. Then again, Paul tended to not give much of a damn about anything besides the generic interests of any 80's rocker, and blood, of course.

David crossed his legs, "Paul breaks everyone's shit, it's why I thought about putting him in a straight jacket." He rested his cheek on his fist, "What're you looking for, Michael?" Time to see if he knew who the boss was or not.

Michael quirked an eyebrow and held up his magazine, "dude...I've already found it. Just a magazine…" Now he was getting seriously confused, "why?"

"You said there was none left." David stated, "I'm curious what that none is."

"...Blood, David. I finished her off. Fuck, man, you were back there with me." Michael just shook his head, flipping open the magazine and scanning a couple of pages.

"Still hungry?" He questioned, he'd love to take Michael out for a hunt, but he needed to be careful; David didn't want him to encounter his human family. The younger vampire lowered his magazine, looking up at him. A look of distress quickly flitted across his face before fading away.

"...Yeah…" Michael replied, slowly. It was like there...like there should be a reason he wouldn't want to eat, but he just couldn't quite recall what it was. He was hungry, why _shouldn't_ he feed?

"Let's take a little trip then, get some grub." David headed for the exit; they'd all have to keep an eye on Michael. It was late enough, so there shouldn't be an issue with his human family or the Frog brothers, "Michael, you'll have to ride with me until we can get you a bike."

Michael gave him a dubious look, then reluctantly nodded. He clearly wasn't too hot on the idea, but he wasn't arguing. So...that was definitely new.

Marko and Paul looked excited, "We get to go hunting? Finally? Damn, you've been so fucking busy, we haven't gotten to hunt as a pack." Marko grinned as he spoke, practically bouncing.

Paul quickly skipped over to David, throwing an arm around his shoulder and giving him a fat, wet smooch on the cheek, "gotta love this son of a bitch!" Then he drew back slightly, "anyone ever tell you that you've got the most beautiful eyes, Davey?"

David growled, planting his hand over his face and pushing, "Yeah, your mom." He started up the stairs, expecting the others to follow. Michael was the last one to leave, because he couldn't help but linger behind and gaze down at the photo on the ground. He knelt down to pull it out of the frame, cutting his fingers on the shattered glass. Then he folded it up and quickly pocketed it, jogging to catch up with the rest.

* * *

The lights had just gone out on the boardwalk, one-by-one, as the Lost Boys picked their favorite hunting spot of choice, more than eager to show it to their new member, now that he was a little bit more biddable.

Michael glanced around the darkened parking lot, confused. There was no one here. "I don't get it…" It was practically empty, except for maybe a car or two in the distance. What could they have planned?

"It's the perfect vantage spot." David stated, looking out over it, "People come through here all the time and they're easy to pick off. It let's us do some flying and get a meal. Fun and games."

He wasn't too sure what he thought of that idea. 'Fun and games'...it was all just food, wasn't it?

"Dwayne, why don't you start us off tonight?" David paused briefly, "Dinner isn't just about feeding, it's about the hunt, the chase." The others nodded in agreement, gazing out in the distance with a sort of nervous glee. And despite himself, Michael picked up on the energy, letting himself soak it in a bit, too.

"Watch and learn," Dwayne advised Michael sombrely, taking to the air in a rustle of fabric and metal as he alit from the side of his bike, scanning the scene below him, before his eyes settled on something in the distance. He nodded to the others below him, and Marko took to the air next to get a good look at what Dwayne was eyeing. Then Paul. Michael watched them with curiosity, before he glanced over at where their attention was focused. A middle-aged carnie lumbering towards his car at a sluggish pace, stumbling every so often from one too many drinks.

David grinned, speaking softly to Michael, "It never takes long for someone to come walking in and we take advantage."

A woman was hurrying after him, heels clicking on the pavement as she called out to him. He grumbled, waving her off, shouting something unintelligible. He wasn't looking at her but it would only be a matter of time before one or both of them disappeared. Michael leaned forward, then glanced up at the others as they gently sailed closer to the car the couple was headed towards, remaining just high enough in the air to go unnoticed.

"Do we…" Michael frowned, glancing over at the couple and licking his lips. He hadn't realized how hungry he was until now… "do we go up there with them?" He asked, curious. Growing a little anxious now, unsure why they weren't just going right for the kill.

"We can, just no jumping the gun." He grinned, moving up with the others, "Come up and join us." He sounded so welcoming, calling to him, " _Michael,"_ David's voice echoed in his head, prompting him to finally take flight, eager to feed and yet still unsure exactly what was happening right now. A thrill ran down his spine...and gradually, the sense of melancholy he'd felt earlier in the evening when they left the hotel seemed to fade away.

The man had reached his car now, and was feverishly trying to jam the keys into the handle...three...four time he was unsuccessful until the woman snatched them from him and unlocked the door herself, pulling it open and shoving him away from the driver's side.

David chuckled softly, "Too bad, drunk drivers are fun to pick off."

"Why?" Michael asked, only half-listening. He was growing impatient. Why was this taking so long?

"Because they do a lot of weaving, it's like trying to grab a fish in water."

"Fun to clean up, too, if you don't grab them before they go splat!" Paul cackled, before Marko quickly covered his mouth with a snicker. They'd very nearly caught the attention of the pair below...and in fact, the drunk was squinting up into the night sky as he stumbled around to the passenger side, too blind from a night of hard liquor to register much beyond the shifting world about him.

David punched Paul hard, giving him a dead arm, "You almost ruined it, fucker." He hissed lowly as the car started up.

They waited until they were pulling out of the parking lot to give chase, following Dwayne's lead for this hunt. And he was fast...dizzyingly so. They all were...Michael could hardly believe he was even able to keep up. The rush and beat of the wind against his ears imitated the sound of a thumping heart, of rushing blood, and it made him all the hungrier before Dwayne finally gave a quick nod and grin to their pack leader, before swiftly hurtling down towards the car, latching himself onto the roof as his body slammed into the metal, causing it to groan and dent, while the vehicle swerved off of the road into the sand and grass, continuing to power away while the driver screamed bloody murder.

Michael had to admit, as grating as the sound was, it was also a little intoxicating. His head spun with the sensory overload. David thumped down beside Dwayne, digging his claws into the metal and pulling, tearing the roof off like a can of sardines. Marko and Paul whistled, clapping their hands in hideous glee, their faces morphing as they descended together to join their brothers, Paul at the trunk of the car, and Marko at the hood, waving playfully to the wailing driver and passenger...who by now, most definitely, was both sober and soiled.

"Come on Michael! Which do you want?" David grabbed the back of their shirts, hoisting them both up, "Male or female?"

The brunette looked pensive, sailing down on a gust of screaming wind and eyeing the thrashing victims, half-mad with fright, and for a moment, he almost felt a little guilty for what he was about to do...then he broke into a grin and tore the woman from David's grasp, "I think I want the one who didn't shit herself," he decided, giving her a good shake to silence the pitiful wails, while even further below, Dwayne and the others had leapt from the car as it spun out of control for lack of a human driver.

David looked at Dwayne, offering the man to him, after all, it was his hunt first. There were plenty of others to eat and Dwayne had shown a proper hunt.

As Michael pulled the woman closer, he picked up a familiar scent...not the fragrance of her actual skin and blood, but something cloying with it...a perfume. For a moment, he came very close to dropping her in surprise, or foregoing his meal in favor of trying to understand exactly why it seemed to bother him…and an image of soft cotton sheets encasing a tender body he couldn't see assaulted his mind. He flinched at the thought, like it was a shard of glass piercing his skull. It hurt...and he didn't want to feel that pain.

"Michael?" David questioned softly, "What's wrong?" His eyes narrowed slightly.

Michael shook his head, confused, before drawing the woman closer and forcing himself not to focus on that flitting image in his mind. Trying to hold onto it was like trying to cup water in his hands...it would fall out anyway, despite his best efforts...and it only ruined what could be an incredible meal. "Nothing…" He rasped, before viciously tearing into the throat of his whimpering victim, cries and shouts turning into gurgles as her life-blood spilled out around Michael's mouth. He had a feeling that David might press the issue later but for now he was going to enjoy the fear that enhanced the taste of her blood. Much better than his first meal. No hang-ups to worry about. Though he wasn't really sure exactly _what_ had bothered him before.

When he finally dropped her, letting the empty husk of what had once been a person fall and crumple to the ground below, bones shattered and limbs splayed almost comically, Michael could barely remember why he'd been upset at all. In fact, he was feeling pretty good now. For the most part. He glanced over at David, wiping the blood from his chin and licking it from the tips of his fingers, "I'm fine."

David eyed him incredulously, "Tell me if anything is wrong, or on your mind or talk to Dwayne." He didn't quite believe him but he wasn't going to push it, at least not this time.

Michael just rolled his eyes, "I'm fine. I said I'm fine, so I'm fine. Okay?"

David growled softly, "I'm your pack leader, don't forget that, Michael."

The younger vampire crossed his arms, "when did I say you weren't?" He didn't even know why he was getting so defensive about this.

"Your well being is important and keeping something to yourself instead of telling me, isn't a good idea." He stated, keeping calm, surprisingly enough.

He sighed, "okay. I just...I don't know what's wrong, okay? Something's missing. That's all. And I don't know what it is," he felt a little lost now, just thinking about it. Because he couldn't even understand what he was saying, or what that weird memory before his meal meant. All Michael knew for certain was that he definitely needed to avoid smelling perfume for awhile, apparently, if that was how he was going to react to it.

"I get it, we all feel a little lost at first, like something's missing. What's important is being part of a pack, relying on the rest to push past it. You belong, you're not lost, you're one of us, Michael."

"Wow…" Michael's eyes widened slightly, "that's almost touching. Do you want to cuddle and watch 'It's a Wonderful Life', now?" He smirked, shrugging away his doubts for now. They weren't going to help him in the long run. He'd just have to learn to...well, he'd have to learn not to think so much about whatever _that_ was.

David smirked, "Yeah, let's go sit in a circle and sing songs together, sound good, boys?" During their little pow-wow, Dwayne and the others had rejoined them, listening in on their little heart-to-heart. Marko propped an elbow up on Michael's shoulder, smirking privately.

"Sure, have some spritzers, paint our nails...Dwayne, didn't you just get the latest issue of Cosmo?" Marko batted his eyelashes.

Dwayne glared at him, "No, but Paul did, I saw him pick up that and Seventeen."

"Hey," Paul defended, "all tits are created equal...no matter the age or style. That's what this country stands for, my friend. Plus, you're the one who ripped out all the perfume samples..." He stuck out his tongue and dodged Dwayne's arm as he took a swipe at him.

David raised an eyebrow, "That's just sick, Paul. All tits are not created equal, that'd be like doing one of the little shits we play with on the boardwalk. Something seriously wrong with you if you think age isn't important."

"Well, then…" Paul tilted his head up, "I guess I'm just more patriotic than you, Davey…"

"Or desperate," Michael suggested, laughing.

"A desperate patriot…" Marko mused, "sounds like a skin flick. That suits Pauly about right."

"Dude, that sounds like an awesome one, where'd you find it?" Paul looked excited at the thought of seeing that movie.

* * *

David leaned back in his chair, watching the boys as they went about their business. He enjoyed this, it was just so mundane, so normal, and he so rarely got to enjoy it. Dwayne was reading, Marko was playing with his pigeons, and Paul...Where was Paul?" He scowled, had lost sight of the son of a bitch. Never a good sign. In fact, _always_ a bad sign. Half the time Paul disappeared he was high and wandering the caves, the other half was what you had to worry about. He was known to get into things he shouldn't and more often than not he was destroying something that didn't belong to him. Whoever coined the blessing 'may you live in boring times' should have added 'without Paul hanging around to fuck shit up.'

Michael was sitting by his things, still sorting them occasionally, but mostly just staring at a crumpled picture in his hand and that worried David more than anything else. He wasn't sure what the picture was but it was holding too much of his fledgling's attention. He would have to think of some way to redirect all of that energy Into something more productive.

"Where's Paul?" Michael lowered the photo and looked about curiously. A smiling face was just barely visible...framed by dark curls. Star...

"Hello, ladies," Paul crowed, striding into the lobby with his hands tucked behind his back, grinning saucily as he flopped down beside Marko, sending pigeons flying about them in a flurry of feathers and dirt, earning him a hard punch from the smaller vampire.

"Fucking asshole, you scared my pigeons."

"They'll be back. They always come flying whenever they see their precious Marko...what do you do with those birdies all the time that makes them like you so much, huh?" Paul nudged him and snickered, pulling a joint out of his pocket and tucking it between his lips as he glanced over at David and then Michael. "Hey, Mikey...you just gonna leave all your stuff in that corner, or you gonna pick somewhere a little safer from all the pigeon shit, huh?"

Michael tucked the picture into his pocket and glanced over at Paul, "it's fine where it is."

"You sure?" Paul leaned forward. "Gonna be all white and splotchy pretty soon...won't it, Davey?"

"What? From mold?" David scowled, "Yeah, I guess some of it will be."

Rolling his eyes, Michael stood up, "fine...I'll fucking move it if it'll shut you up…" He knelt down to grasp at his weights, moving to lift them in one go, when a jacket fell away from one half, revealing that Paul had taken all of the weight off of one side and loaded it up on the other. Michael yelped, stumbling to the side and dropping it right on his foot as he stumbled to catch himself. He howled in pain, kneeling down to shove the weights away.

Paul was the only one laughing, the other three cringing slightly and looking at the culprit, "Fuck, Paul…" Dwayne shook his head, they still didn't know exactly what Michael was going to do when faced with conflict. So far, he'd been fairly passive, even to the odd joke or two but this was something totally different.

"Bit heavy, huh, sunshine?" Paul snickered. Michael didn't respond. "Mikey?" He stood up, slowly creeping towards him, "dude...you lose your balls, or-"

Michael jerked his head up, snarling, fangs and claws drawn as he threw himself right at Paul, slashing and tearing at him in a fury. The older vampire was even more surprised than Michael had been about the little prank with his weight set, and hardly had time to recover before they were rolling about in the dirt, cloth rending, blood staining the ground beneath them. Maybe it was the edge his anger had given him, or the pain of a mending foot, or even the fact that Paul was halfway to blitzed, but the fight was a fairly even one, the outcome fairly uncertain for a good few minutes until they began to slow down, and it became less about doing actual collateral damage than forcing the other to submit.

The three observers were practically on the edge of their seats, curious as to who was going to win. What place would Michael secure in the pack?

"Mother fucker!" Michael shouted, landing a few punches before he finally dug his fangs into Paul's neck and pinned him to the ground, growling. The rocker was way too out of it to continue to struggle much, and finally gave in with a grumble, stilling.

David clapped, "Bravo!"

Sitting up, Michael climbed off of Paul and stomped back towards his weight, kneeling down to re-set it, "asshole," he mumbled, throwing one last angry glare at the rocker before he went to setting his stuff back in order. Well, he wasn't looking at the picture anymore.

"Good job Mikey! You're not at the bottom!" Marko grinned at him, "So proud of you man."

Paul sat up, rubbing his neck, "so he's got one up on you too, then," he retorted, picking up the joint he'd dropped on the ground...crushed and snapped in half.

"Didn't know it was a contest," Michael sighed, removing his shoe as he sat down to examine his foot. The bones had already begun mending, but the rest would take awhile...it'd been flattened like a pancake. If he'd been human, he doubt he'd have been able to walk for a _long_ time.

"It's always a contest!" Marko glared at Paul, "I beat you last time so there!" He stuck his tongue out at him.

"And three times before that, I owned your ass like a little bitch." Paul replied, twisting the end of one of the longer broken pieces of his poor Mary Jane, and resigning to give the other a proper funeral later.

"Yeah, well, only the last one counts." He pouted, one of his pigeons hopping over to him. He reached down and gently stroked down its back. Dwayne lowered his book and glanced between the two, then snorted as an unreadable look crossed his face, before returning to his novel.

"So let me get this straight, I'm going to be dealing with him touching my shit on a regular basis, then, because it's always a 'contest'?" Michael grumbled, sliding his shoe back on and leaning back against the wall.

"No, the fight was a contest." David stated, "To prove who was higher up in the pack and you won, so you're above him."

"Don't challenge Dwayne though, he fights dirty." Marko grumbled, rubbing the back of his neck, "I think he permanently marked me that first time."

"You had it coming," Dwayne replied dryly, turning a page in his book and continuing to read. "Don't shit-talk Hemingway." He paused, "and don't let your pigeons shit on my Hemingway, either."

"Yeah, never again, won't happen, promise." Marko rubbed his neck again, "I'll be good."

"What's so great about Hemingway?" Michael quirked an eyebrow.

"Oh fuck, don't get him started!" Paul covered his ears.

David shot Dwayne a look, "Don't even go there. He's a lover of the classics, let's just leave it at that."

"The world breaks everyone, and afterward, some-" Dwayne began what would turn out to be a very long, and very dry lecture. Michael would never ask him about Hemingway again. Search him why a guy who couldn't even wear a shirt properly had so much enthusiasm for great writers of the early 20th century.

* * *

Michael finished zipping up his fresh change of jeans, adjusting a white t-shirt and slinging on his jacket before heading towards the exit, "how long are we going to do this before I get my own bike? Seriously…" He complained, following Marko and Dwayne.

"Probably not for too much longer, the issue is finding one that we can get ahold of. Not always the easiest thing to do in this town." Dwayne stated, though Michael wasn't sure whether he was honestly serious or just fucking with him. It was sort of hard to tell.

"I thought you liked riding with David, Mikey." Marko grinned at him, gnawing his thumb.

Michael scowled, "I think you'd look better riding bitch than me," he retorted. "You'd make a convincing ugly chick."

"Nah, Paul's got the hair for it, he'd be the better chick." Marko shot back.

"Even if I was, my dick would still be way bigger than yours!" Paul laughed, skipping outside as they followed, leaving only David behind to finish getting ready.

David came out a few minutes later, not looking the happiest but he didn't look murderous either so that could be counted as a win, "Alright boys, let's get out of here, I think we need to participate in some good old fashioned harassment."

"Got them nice and worked up...gonna be fun taking the next step," Marko bit the thumb of his glove and grinned behind it.

"Got who worked up?" Michael looked between them as he climbed on behind David, starting to grow more and more agitated with riding bitch, but not quite pissed off enough to raise a fuss about it. _Yet._ A few more days, and he just might.

"There are these brothers in town and they are complete idiots. They think we're all dead but they know what we are so we've been fucking with them the last couple weeks." Dwayne explained as they started up their bikes.


	7. Chapter 7: Customer Service

Author's notes:

Ran - I feel like now would be a _VERY_ good time to remind you what we said earlier. This is going to get darker...

* * *

Edgar and Alan nervously paced the shop, only once every so often to pause and chatter with a customer, or adjust something on a wrack. Neither of them had been sleeping well, thanks to a few...bizarre occurrences at their house in the last few days.

Alan was afraid to open the fridge without a baseball bat, because every time he went to grab a midnight snack, an undead suckling pig would try to leap out at him and shove an apple in his mouth. Edgar was paranoid about using the toilet, because on three separate occasions he'd gotten up in the middle of the night and could _swear_ he sat on a set of viciously sharp teeth...once the lid cover had even tried to slam down on his back so it could chew him up and eat him.

Right now...they were not in the best state of mind. And considering how they usually were anyway, that was saying something.

"You think...you think maybe mom used the wrong mushrooms in that stew she made?" Edgar turned back towards his brother from his position behind the counter, drumming his fingers nervously to the beat of his ticking watch. Work was a safe place at night. They could rest assured that nothing crazy would happen here, because all the freaky shit was locked safely back in their home with whatever crazy...whatever...that'd been assaulting them both off and on.

Then, it happened. Rachel, the hottest chick in school, walked past their storefront and Edgar could swear she looked at him. _Him!_ He couldn't believe it.

"Alan, I've gotta go check on something...over there." He was outside in a flash.

"Ed! Wait!" Alan shouted after him, dropping a stack of comics and dashing towards the storefront before drawing to a stop with a sigh of exasperation as he turned back towards their dazed parents leaning against the wall. He couldn't just... _leave_...last time they'd done that, half their inventory got trashed.

"Damn it…" he grumbled as he stomped back to the comics he'd dropped. "Fucking... _asshole_ …"

He shook his head with a sigh, going back to sorting through the comics, glancing up now and then to see who was coming in. Everything was fine, everything was normal, until the little one walked in. The little one that they had _killed_. The little one that still had a stake through his heart, blood and gore dripping around the wound to spill about the floor at his feet. He couldn't move, couldn't breathe. This couldn't be happening! His breath came in sharp pants as he held back a low whimper. But...he wasn't even _looking_ at Alan, he was just...browsing.

The nervous Frog brother tried to take a step back, nearly stumbling over his own feet as comics began to tumble from his clutches, while the monster idly picked over one after another comic, gloved fingers leaving little sticky fingerprints behind.

"Pl…" Alan took a breath, "pl-" he took another breath...tried to force himself to scream. But he felt like he was in a dream, and the air was being punched from his lungs. He was dreaming. He had somehow fallen asleep on his feet, and he was just imagining this…

"Hey, you got anything better than this shit?" The little one called out to him, tilting his head and laughing in an ear-shattering high pitch, fangs dripping over his chin and eyes piercing through Alan's soul. And the smell...the awful _smell!_ Just when he thought he had found his tongue, yet another one filed into the shop. It was the blonde rocker, the one who'd gotten the full holy water spa treatment. Alan just about threw up, his flesh was dripping off his body, sliding to land in soft plops on the floor. He went over to the other one and they grinned at each other. The effect made all the more disturbing by the fact that the melting rocker didn't even have any skin left around his mouth or chin for his fangs to dangle over.

"Superman is bullshit, Batman is so much better." Flesh was dripping into the comics and Alan whimpered pathetically. Not only from fear...but they were _destroying_ the collector's value for those things!

"They...they just…" Alan gulped, rubbing at his eyes as he fell back against the counter, pressing the few comics he'd managed not to drop, "everyone likes...different things…" Maybe he was going nuts? He hadn't even _eaten_ any of that mushroom stew! He had to keep telling himself that, this was a hallucination, it had to be!

The brunette walked in, moving to the others, a crossbow bolt still in his chest. What was next? The last one, the leader, would he come in with the rack of antlers still in his chest? Before Alan could ponder this further, he noticed a movement out of the corner of his eyes. The one with the crossbow...he had bleeding lines running up and down his limbs, on his neck, his feet...his skin looked like it was beginning to crisp and burn as if he were being grilled, and then...his arm fell off, tumbling to the ground to snatch up one of the comics Alan had dropped. Then he took a step closer, the others drawing beside him and cackling, and his other arm fell...then finally, when he was just inches away...his head rolled forward onto the counter Beside Alan…and he winked.

Alan screamed and bolted. He couldn't stay here any more, he had to get out of here before he totally lost his mind. Where the hell was Edgar?!

Where else would he be? Already a block down the boardwalk, Edgar had followed the hot chick as far as she was willing to lead him. And he couldn't believe it...she'd actually given him _signals._ Winks, smiles, even a few sexy shakes of her hip-strangling jeans. They were so tight, he was sure her thighs had to be just as blue as the denim by now...and he'd be more than happy to rub them until they got the circulation going again, of course. If she would just fucking stop with the teasing and talk to him!

She crooked her finger as she slid into the alley, beckoning him closer, and with the sexiest eyebrow wiggle he could manage, he acquiesced with a grunt as he followed. "You're so hot," he mumbled, hands twitching nervously as he wondered whether or not she'd really been beckoning him and not some dude behind him with a car and better clothes.

She licked her lips, "I always thought you were hot." She hooked her fingers in his belt loops, pulling him close.

"You did?!" He squeaked, then paused and cleared his throat, repeating himself in a much deeper tone, "you did?" He'd never been this far before...what the hell was he supposed to do? Wait...stroke her hair. Chicks liked that, right? Edgar slowly reached up to pat her on the head.

She glanced over his shoulder, smiling at something...someone...Edgar made a move to look back and see what she was looking at, before he felt her grab him by the chin and jerk his face back towards hers.

"So, Rachel, ready to take your first bite?" That voice was familiar, he'd heard it before, back in the house when Michael was fighting that freaky albino. Fuck. He managed to jerk his head around, coming face to face with the bleach blonde vampire.

"B-b-b-b...y-yy-y…" Edgar stammered, shoving the girl away and crossing his fingers, then spinning about to hold out his deadly symbol towards the other one...swiveling back and forth while his mouth continued to flutter as he tried to form at least one word...before he gave a girlish shriek and dashed away back towards the safety of the comic shop.

David grinned, looking at the girl, "Go home, girly, I'm done with you." She nodded, still in a sluggish daze as she walked away. Tomorrow, she wouldn't remember a single thing about this, except a tiny thought David had implanted in her head...to lick her lips and stare at Edgar's neck whenever she saw him.

Michael had been watching the whole time, leaning up against the wall in the alleyway, eyes trained on David. He broke into a grin, shaking his head as he drew a cigarette from his lips and held it out, "why didn't you just eat them both?"

David took it, taking a drag, "They're just too much fun to fuck with. Can't do that if they're dead." He paused, handing it back, "As far as the girl, he's going to freak the fuck out when he sees her in school."

The brunette looked thoughtful as he took the cigarette back, "well, I don't know who the hell they are, but I know I don't like them." He tucked the cigarette between his lips and pushed away from the wall, crossing towards David, "you've still got some blood on your cheek…" He had a distant look in his eyes, struggling to decide whether or not he should do something...

David didn't move, eyes locked on Michael, waiting to see what he was going to do. He needn't have waited long, because once the younger vampire had tossed his cigarette to the ground, he leaned forward to quickly lick it away, pulling back with a frown.

"...that was weird…" He cringed, "sorry."

David grinned, licking his lips, he couldn't help but like it, "Taste good? No need to apologize."

"Guess I'm still a little hungry," Michael smirked, shrugging his shoulder and looking out towards the wooden slats of the boardwalk, "I think the other one just ran by…"

David looked past him, "Yep, boys did a good job." He grinned, "Let's go collect the idiots." He headed for the comic book store, " _Boys! Let's go!"_

As they hopped on their bikes to head out, Michael was a little wary about riding with David again. He had a weird feeling about what he'd just done in the alley, and wasn't really sure what to think about it. Was that _normal?_ It had been fun though, and that's what life or well, unlife, was about? Right?

"Going home?" Michael asked David when he finally climbed on behind him. This really was getting a little ridiculous, now.

"Unless you're hungry, that's the plan." He started up the bike.

"I could eat," Marko chimed in, "that little game took a lot out of us...what about you?" He looked back at Dwayne and Paul, who revved their engines and laughed, Paul tossing his hair and howling in agreement.

Michael couldn't help but grin with them. For the first time since he'd finally made his first kill, he didn't have any odd feelings holding him back. He just felt content...like he really belonged. He chuckled as he slowly put his hands on David's shoulders, "sounds great." He paused, "but no Chinese…"

As they powered away, they didn't even notice the blonde kid with his mom just leaving a clothing shop. And neither Sam nor Lucy even saw them...but they definitely heard. Sam exchanged a nervous glance with his mom, smiling weakly, "uh…" he licked his lips, "guess there's lots of bikers around here, huh?"

She glanced the way the sound had come from, "Yeah...I guess so…"

* * *

David had a surprise for Michael. The bleach blonde had taken off to get it ready at nightfall without saying anything to the others. Now it was time to give it to him.

"Alright boys, let's head up top." He said from the entrance, crossing his arms over his chest, "Got a surprise."

Michael looked towards him curiously, setting the baseball he'd been tossing in the air beside him, "what's up?"

David didn't respond as he turned and headed back up the stairs, expecting them to follow. He didn't want to spoil the surprise after all. Over the last few days, Michael had learned to take his advice about trust, too, because he didn't even argue or pause when the others filed out after their leader. He just went with it.

When they got to top, lined up with the rest of the bikes was something covered in an old drop cloth, "Go ahead, Michael." David motioned to it.

The brunette looked at him with raised eyebrows, slowly smirking as he drew towards the drop cloth. He was clearly trying to hide his enthusiasm, but it was a bit of a challenge as he yanked the cloth away to reveal the gift. The Triumph was all smooth lines, a beast of chrome and deep blue and it was all Michael's.

"Wow…" Michael examined it, running his hands over the cool metal, appreciating every single curve, down to the finest detail. He was so excited about it, he practically forgot he wasn't alone.

"Like it?" David asked, watching intently.

"I fucking love it!" Michael exclaimed, grinning up at him through a fall of curls that had come forward to cover one of his eyes.

"You're so good to us, daddy," Paul laughed, looking out across the bluff. "Let's break it in, huh?"

"Yeah, you remember that when you decide to be an asshole. I'm good to those who behave." David smirked, "What do you think, Michael? Want to go for a ride?" He didn't even have to be asked twice. He was already gunning his engine, "Guess I got my answer." He grinned, mounting his own bike and taking off.

There really was nothing like it, next to the high of a good feeding, and the thrill of flight. It was on a night like this, Michael didn't look like he was being haunted by shadows of memories he would never catch. There was no confusion or doubt. Just...being. David tossed his head back and howled, laughing into the night, listening to the chorus that joined him as the others howled in return. Tonight was going to be a good night, he could feel it in his bones. They moved as one through fog and sand, grass and hill, and finally tarmac blacker than the night sky above them. Out to the edges of Santa Carla, and stretching into the next town over where they were nothing but a silly story at best. For all that they enjoyed their infamy it was nice sometimes to be unknown, to have people completely oblivious to what they are, to what they're capable of. What's more, they were a little less hindered by their own rules. Out here...they could do whatever they wanted to the locals, as long as they didn't leave _too_ much of a mess behind.

Marko tilted his face to the sky, sticking out his tongue and grinning, " _it's beginning to rain."_

Rain sucked and none of them wanted to be out in it, " _Let's find us a place."_ He glanced around, spotting an old farm building, " _Like that."_ He pointed, " _It's our lucky night, boys."_

Dwayne closed his eyes for a moment and inhaled, " _only one blood-bag. Old. Piss poor meal…probably wanna get rid of him first."_

David glanced at Michael, " _Hungry? All yours."_

He shrugged, " _I'm not picky. Sure."_ The gentle sprinkling had picked up almost immediately into a torrential shower by the time they drew their bikes aside behind the building. Not really much to write home about, this place. Nobody had looked after it for a long time. The paint was peeling, the roof looked like it was in danger of caving in at some points, and large slats of siding were completely missing from the house.

Michael surveyed the farmhouse thoughtfully before he decided exactly how to go about this. Even if the geezer inside wasn't a challenge, he could still make the approach fun. He glanced over at the others, shaking his hair out as he pressed up against the side of the house, and began to climb like a spider along the wall towards the one lit window on the second story.

David sat back and watched, curious how he was going to go about it. He was learning fast which pleased him more than anything else. He really wanted to get inside soon though, the rain was picking up and they were getting drenched.

Once Michael reached the window, he dug his claws into the panes and yanked it open, slithering inside like a lizard. There was a momentary silence. Then the light went off. And finally...a long, low scream.

He poked his head outside soon after, chin covered in blood, elbows propped up against the damaged windowpane, "you guys coming, or am I just getting the place to myself tonight?"

David chuckled softly, "Yeah, yeah." He licked his lips before walking in the front door as if he owned the place. He strolled up the stairs, "This should work for the night, or at least until the rain dies down."

Marko and Paul were immediately in the kitchen, digging through the fridge. It looked like they were fighting over a box of Twinkies. Dwayne seemed to have found his place, spotting a bookcase in the living room. Nothing but Readers Digest novels and encyclopedias, but he could make do with almost anything as long as it had words. But Michael remained upstairs. Maybe he'd found something even more intriguing than just an easy meal?

David strolled into the bedroom, "Find anything interesting?" He questioned, looking in at his fledgling. He was sitting on the edge of a bloodstained bed, wringing out his shirt and watching the pinkish water drip down onto the floorboards. The body had been wrapped up in a sheet and set beside the window.

Michael looked up at him, shaking rain from his hair and giving David a lopsided smirk, chin still smeared with blood, "ruined my shirt."

David chuckled softly, "Red's a good color on you." He strolled over, sitting next to him on the bed. His fledgling just shook his head, lifting the damp shirt to wipe at his face, but pausing midway to give David a contemplative look.

The elder vampire cocked his head to the side slightly, "Something on your mind?"

"Too much. Don't want to think about it right now," Michael replied, rubbing the blood from his chin and dropping his shirt to the ground with a wet ' _Plop._ ' His eyes scanned over David's face, his neck...lingered there for awhile, before he finally just leaned forward and gave his maker a gentle nip on the cheek, his tongue darting out to lick at the spot afterwards. Then he pulled back and gave him a wary frown. There was one thing Michael had very clearly always been as a human, and apparently he didn't know how to deal with the fact that the line suddenly didn't seem to matter much.

Then Michael's eyes darted towards the door, and he leaned forward again, this time nipping at David's neck with a soft growl, hands flying up to pluck at the older vampire's coat and push it down his shoulders. David growled in return, pressing against him, his nails dragging down his back, feeling the skin flex beneath his fingers. He nipped and bit down his throat slowly, curious as to how far Michael was willing to go. His claws traced along the top of his pants as he rocked up against him. The younger vampire responded, slowly at first, seemingly unsure as he finally managed to wrestle David's coat off.

David growled softly, sensing his hesitation, "Do what you want." He snarled, flipping them over and rolling his hips down against him, showing him that he was just as hard, wanted it just as badly.

That was enough, and Michael's movements became more feverish, a hand reaching down to yank at David's belt, quickly undoing it, while he used his other hand to grip at the back of his maker's head, groaning softly at the feel of their hips pressed against each other. David was quick to tug the fledgling's pants down in return, groaning as he rolled down against him. Loving the slide of flesh against flesh.

Michael's back arched as he leaned upwards to drag his fangs along David's neck, skimming along the throat and just nicking it, before he growled and pressed back against him, kicking his shoes off and yanking at David's shirt, practically shredding it as he tried to get even more skin on skin contact. And then, in an unexpected move, he flipped David over this time, grinning down at him while he continued to slowly rock his hips. Then, reluctantly, he calmed himself enough to stop before he got too excited, and leaned down to lick a trail up David's chest. The bleach blonde moaned, fingers tangling in brunette curls. He growled lowly, watching him, watching as he used that perfect mouth of his to taste him.

"Good," he groaned lowly, "so good, keep going, Michael."

"I'm brushing my teeth after this," Michael warned him, dragging blunt nails along David's side as he went lower, just a little hesitant as he got closer towards the focal point. Whether sexuality mattered or not, he'd still never done this kind of shit with a dude. David didn't push, let him do what he was comfortable doing.

"Go ahead, you can brush your teeth, just damn, keep going." He tipped his head back, groaning low in his throat. He paused for a moment, "You don't have to do it, not gonna force you."

Michael looked up at him thoughtfully, bringing his hand down to slowly grasp at David's length. The alternative of blue balls right now just wasn't going to work for him. He shrugged, "I'm good." And then he looked as if he was about to compete in a marathon, the look of concentration on his face so intense as he tried to figure out exactly how to go about this, gradually beginning to stroke the blonde, doing what he was sure _he_ enjoyed, but had never really had the chance to take a survey on another's reaction to it.

"Is…does that work for you?" Michael looked up at him curiously.

He groaned softly, stroking through his hair slowly, "Yeah, keep going." He rocked his hips up slightly into his grasp, which was all the encouragement Michael needed. David groaned low in his throat, tipping his head back, fingers clenching slightly in his hair, "Feels good." A soft grunt escaped his lips as Michael gave a twist of his wrist, "Yeah, more of that."

Michael complied, quickly growing more confident as he picked up his speed, until he finally managed to get just the right rhythm. David groaned low in his throat, giving his hips a sharp thrust up and finding his release, his fingers tightening in his hair as he slowly came back down. Michael had wiped his hand off on the bed, and quickly crawled up to give David's neck a soft lick, whispering against his throat by the time the stars finally seemed to clear from the blonde's vision, "you mind?" He laughed against David's skin, grasping at one of his maker's hands still clenched in his hair and slowly guiding it down to his own anxious arousal. Hard and righteously indignant at the lack of attention.

David chuckled softly, giving him a slow squeeze and rotating as he started to stroke, "Mmm, gonna make you feel just as good as you made me feel." He slowly massaged his scalp as he began to stroke, dragging his nails down his back slowly, watching his reactions to see what he liked best. The brunette moaned and gasped into his neck, shifting his hips and pressing himself harder into David's hand, biting David's shoulder to keep himself from making too much noise. Willing or not, he didn't want an audience. David groaned, loving to see him come undone, stroking him firmly, giving him another twist of his wrist.

As David worked him to into a frenzy, biting wasn't enough. Michael shifted, pulling his head away from his maker's shoulder and bringing one of his own hands up to his mouth to dig his fangs into his knuckles; his climax left him practically boneless, as his teeth tore and dug at the skin, and he slumped down against the bleach blond, gasping. Shaking. Purring.

" _Wow."_

David chuckled, grinning as he combed through his hair, "Good?"

Michael slowly rolled away, resting beside him with an arm slung over his face, "was that _normal?_ " He paused, frowning, "god damn it...that's why my pants got screwed up the other night, isn't it?"

He chuckled softly, "Yeah, gender isn't really an issue with us. Totally normal but it's not like humans can really...handle us. We go after what makes us feel good. Feeding feels good, sex feels good, we follow what we're attracted to." He paused, grinning at him to lighten the mood, "Can't say you made a bad choice though, I'm quite the catch after all."

The brunette pulled his arm away and glanced over at David with a raised eyebrow, "don't you ever worry your ego is going to go supernova some day?"

He shook his head, "It'll never happen." He tucked his hands under his head, looking at the ceiling, "It's not ego if it's true."


	8. Chapter 8: Sleepover

"I just…" Lucy threw her hands up, "I just don't understand." On the table were three letters sent to Michael's return address, and all three sent back with 'return to sender' stamped in red on them. "Does he just...has he just gone crazy? Is he cutting us out of his life?!" She exclaimed, pacing in the kitchen with her arms crossed. Sam was at school right now, thankfully unaware. Star was sitting at the table with a cup of tea, fingering one of the letters and looking pensive.

"Star, please...did you _tell_ him? Do you think…" Lucy paused, shaking her head. "No, he wouldn't do that. Not Michael…" She knew her son, and she also knew he wouldn't just get a girl pregnant and ditch her without so much as a word. No, something was definitely wrong.

"I was going to tell him but then he just...left. I told him I had a surprise for him." She bowed her head, "I'm going to go to Hell to find him." Hell, Michigan, of course. The place on the return address.

Lucy slumped down at the chair opposite Star, "are you sure? Do you want me to buy you a plane ticket?"

She shook her head, "No, I'll find him, I have to. I can't take your money, I have a little saved up, I'll find Michael and be back before you know it."

"Well…" Lucy smiled, "if that's what you think you have to do, I'll support it. When you both get back, I'll have more than a few things to tell my son."

She nodded, kissing her cheek, "I'll call everyday so you know how the search is going."

* * *

No more nightmares. Well, at least he hadn't had any for like a week. He was still worried about his brother. Between the returned letters and not hearing anything else from him it was a little disheartening. But! Things had calmed down and the Frogs were staying over for the night. It was nice to have some normalcy for once. Okay, with Ed and Alan...maybe the term was relative, but he'd take what he could get.

"So I've got the tent rigged up...and these smoke bombs will distract them if they show up and try to rip our throats out. I've got a couple of stakes and a canteen of holy water for immediate disposal of bloodsuckers if they get past the smoke bombs. Then there's some windex...cause if you spray that in anyone's eyes, that's gonna hurt like a bitch…" Edgar went down a list as he and Alan inspected Sam's room, having propped up a small tent in the very middle with the use of several chairs and a fleece blanket.

"You got any ideas to keep the bastards at bay, Sam?" Alan turned towards him, wielding a large cross meant for wall decorations as a personal weapon against any and all creatures of the night, should they choose to make an appearance.

"I really don't think they're alive, undead, whatever." He sighed, "Holy water? How much of that do we have besides what's in that flask? That did the most damage."

"Uh…" Ed cleared his throat, "look, it's really hard to tell what's holy and what isn't unless you've got some undead bastards to test it on, and-"

"Ed drank most of it." Alan shrugged.

"You're the one who put it in the fridge!" Edgar rounded on his brother angrily.

"I didn't want it to get stale…" Alan defended himself, drawing back and holding out the cross less like a holy weapon, and more like a blunt one if he had to use it.

"Are you serious?! You drank our holy water?"

Edgar shrugged, "I was thirsty. Plus, I wasn't in my right mind...bad dreams. Vampires at the window...in the door...worms crawling everywhere…" his eyes began to bug out as he recalled his horrible visions and nightmares. Reliving them.

He rolled his eyes, "Whatever, I still have my crossbow at least." He pulled it close beside him, "And enough with the worms, that's just gross, I had to listen to you assholes complaining about seeing decaying vampires."

When midnight rolled around, Edgar and Alan were leaning against the bedroom door, eyes trained on Sam's window, shifting nervously on the ground. So far, they just looked like they'd gone nuts. No signs of anything except an idiot owl flying into the side of the house.

"Vamp...vampires…" Edgar grunted, his eyelids starting to drift closed.

Alan looked over at Sam, "we haven't slept in three days...we need you to be our guard dog, Sam." He looked like he was just about to pass out. The frenetic energy the Frog brothers had brought with them just about evaporated, leaving Sam alone with two nutcases blocking his bedroom door.

Sam shook his head, "Assholes." He mumbled, letting his eyes half close, relaxing, holding his crossbow firmly. Man, he was tired. Nanook whined at the foot of his bed, leaping down to the ground and beginning to pace the room, "Come 'ere buddy." He mumbled, patting at his leg. Outside, the wind had begun to rattle at the window, and the shadows of quivering tree branches were drawing black fingers across his bedroom floor.

Nanook nervously scratched at the carpet, then looked over at Sam, huffing and growling. Edgar and Alan couldn't even hear it. And that was when those strange shadowy fingers began to curl...which definitely wasn't normal.

"Vampires!" Edgar jerked awake, looking up at Sam and down at the moving shadow that had begun to strangely look like a clawed human hand. "Holy shit!" He screeched, throwing his stake at the shadow uselessly.

Alan jumped up beside him, spinning about, "what did I miss?!"

The shadow...looked like a shadow again. Maybe it was just a trick of the light. Nanook was closer to the window now, growling and barking. Sam pulled the crossbow closer, aiming it at the window, "S-Show yourself!" He squeaked, sure, he was going for manly but you couldn't blame him for freaking out, could you?

There was the sound of claws on glass and he pulled the trigger. There was a yelp as the bolt went through the glass followed by a voice, "Son of a bitch, mother fucker! He shot me in the shoulder!"

Alan and Edgar held onto each other tightly, whimpering as Nanook backed away from the window, preparing to leap, to defend his master if he had to. Holy flaming monkey shit, the Frog brothers were _right!_

A rock sailed through the window, nailing the husky in the head and causing him to reel back, howling in pain as blood dripped from his muzzle. "Two points!" Another voice shouted from outside, high-pitched and cackling.

Sam scrambled to reload his crossbow, fumbling with the bolt as another rock flew in, "Leave us alone! You're supposed to be dead!" Sam whimpered softly, hesitantly moving toward the window, "Please?"

There was a flash of gold and Sam clapped his hands over his mouth to stop his scream as the face of the bleach blond filled the window pane for a brief moment, his features twisted.

Alan scrambled towards the discarded stake and brandished it, holding it outwards toward the window and looking back at Sam, urging him with his eyes and a nod to finish what he fucking started. He had a clear shot!

"David!" A familiar voice called out. "Thought we weren't killing them tonight?"

"He fucking _shot_ me!"

"We're not killing them! Not this time." David paused, "But they need to know that we _could_. Couldn't we boys?" There was an answering cacophony of howls followed by spine-chilling laughter, "Watch yourselves, kids, or you'll be our next meal, locals or not." And in a flash of fabric and glittering metal, he was gone. But the laughter hadn't faded yet, and Sam knew if he notched one more arrow...he could probably take one of them out if they were still there…Sam ran to the window, looking out after them, eyes going wide when he saw familiar brunette hair...Michael.

"M-Michael?!" He whispered past the lump in his throat. It couldn't be, he had to be seeing things, he just had to be. But he wasn't. His brother was standing there with the others, in the flesh...and it was his nightmare come to life. Then they all took flight, and in moments they had disappeared.

* * *

Once they got to the hotel, Marko could not stop whining. And Michael had a problem of his own, so he didn't pay too much attention to the small vampire while he proceeded to dig through his clothes and boxes. Where had he put it? Seeing that kid back at the house had given him a fuck-load of anxiety. And he wanted to figure out why. The only solution he could think of was to get a hold of that picture. He was sure if he just...tried hard enough...he'd be able to put the pieces together.

"Oh, shut up, Marko." David rolled his eyes, settling into his chair, "You're fine, it's already healed." He glanced at Michael, "What're you doing?"

"Looking for something," Michael replied curtly, dumping out a box of odds and ends. Nothing there...he'd put it in a pocket of one of his jeans, he was sure of it. The more he searched and dug, the ore frustrated he became. This just didn't make any sense...had he dropped it somewhere on a hunt?

"What're you looking for?"

"Picture."

David scowled, "Why do you need a picture? What's it of?"

Michael lowered the jacket he'd been sorting through, exasperated, "I don't know. Someone. A chick. Why does it matter?" He lifted the jacket again and checked the pockets again. Still nothing. Now he was on the verge of losing his temper. He couldn't have lost it...someone took it from him. Someone went through _his things._

"That's my point, why does it matter?" David got to his feet, walking over to him, laying a hand on his shoulder, "What does a picture of a girl matter? Tell me, Michael, tell me why it's so important."

"Well…" He shrugged, "I don't know...I think I knew her. And I think I felt something...but I don't really understand it anymore. And the same thing with that kid back at the house we just went to. I think I knew him, too," he felt helpless. Wanted to remember these things, figure them out. Something told him he would have wanted to, when he was human. And half of those feelings he actually could remember...fuck, he couldn't even identify what they were anymore. They were completely foreign to him.

David gave his shoulder a squeeze, "It doesn't matter. If you don't remember it, is it really that important?" He questioned, "Would remembering your humanity help anything? You're one of us," he leaned close, whispering in his ear, "you're mine." He pulled back slowly, "Do you really need to remember it?"

Michael tossed his jacket aside, running a hand through his hair and scratching the back of his head, looking up at David as he leaned towards him and then pulled away. He didn't know how he felt about David talking to him like he was some kind of possession, but everything else made sense. He just...felt empty. Something was missing, and he didn't know how to replace it. "I guess I don't," he shrugged. "But it's still frustrating."

"Why'd they shoot _me?!_ I wasn't even doing anything!" Marko complained, interrupting them. He would be damned if he didn't get a pity party from the whole pack.

David leaned in close again, "Got anything to throw at Marko?" He asked softly, changing the subject, he could get his attention elsewhere. The pack would replace that 'hole' in his life.

Michael glanced down at his things and hefted up a baseball trophy, "this do?"

"Suddenly I'm feeling better…" Marko decided, clearing his throat and moving his arm about, "see?"

David grinned, "Oh yeah, it'll do nicely." He glanced at Marko, "You sure? All better?"

"...Peachy." Marko nodded quickly, quickly ducking behind the couch where Dwayne sat, two barriers of protection (just in case).

David gave his shoulder a squeeze again, "You're one of us, you're pack, if you need anything, let me know." The younger vampire looked at him thoughtfully, then smirked as he turned away.

"Yeah…" He'd try to let it go, and he knew on some level David was right. But it wasn't going to happen overnight.

* * *

Sam was totally stoic as he walked toward his mom, his eyes haunted, "Mom?" He grabbed the hem of his shirt, "I need to talk to you, it's...it's about Mike."

Lucy looked up at Sam from her bed, lowering her reading glasses and setting them on the side table, "sweetie, what's wrong? Did he call? Is he okay?" She frowned, looking over at the clock on the table. It was a little after midnight. Far too late for a phone call...and she hadn't even heard it ring.

He shook his head, "I saw him...I saw Mike…"

"What?" She looked at him, straightening up, "I'm sorry...I don't understand. You saw him leave today and didn't tell me?"

"No, mom, I just saw him outside, he...he was with _them._ " How could she not understand what he was saying?

"With…" Lucy's lips quivered as she leaned over to pat the empty side of the bed to usher him forward, "what do you mean, honey? With...with _who?_ " Clearly she had an idea, but she needed to hear it.

" _Them!_ The...vampires…"

"Sam, you're just worked up from a bad dream. That's impossible. Michael is in _Michigan_."

"NO! He's not! He's here! He's with them! They're not dead!" He shouted, nearly panicking.

Lucy sighed, "Sam, take a deep breath. Calm down. Come over here and tell me exactly what happened, and what makes you think you saw them outside." She paused. "You and dad went out there yourself to check on them. You _know_ they're dead, sweetheart."

He shook his head, "I shot one, Nanook got hit with a rock, and I _heard_ him, he called one of them David."

"You haven't been sleeping much lately. You're sure it wasn't just...you're sure?" Lucy leaned back against the headboard, placing her hands calmly on her stomach. For her own sanity, she just couldn't believe him. She wouldn't.

"I'm sure, mom, it was him." This couldn't be happening, not after all they went through.

"Then I guess you'll just have to go with dad back to that hotel and see their graves again. If you're that sure…" She looked up at the ceiling, "but just...wait until Star gets home. She's going to call us pretty soon, and I'm sure she'll be with Michael. Worrying about what you _think_ you saw...well, it's only going to upset you more." She paused, "and you used to sleepwalk when you were little...don't you remember that? This wouldn't be the first time you had a bad dream that maybe seemed a little...intense. And your friends are always bringing over those awful horror comics for you to read, too. It's no wonder you're having nightmares."

He shook his head, he knew what he saw, even if she wouldn't believe him. He knew Michael was a shit-sucker, or at least with them. But why? Why would he do that? And...what was he going to do?


	9. Chapter 9: He's Dead

"Listen, Sam…" Edgar cleared his throat, taking a mouthful of Cheerios and scowling at him across the breakfast table, "it's not that we're not still bad monster bashers…"

"Cause we are," Alan chimed in, drinking the milk at the bottom of his bowl.

"Yeah. We are," Edgar grunted. "It's just...we don't really want to... _die..._ you sure you don't wanna just go there with your old man while we hold down the fort today? We can make sure there's like...plenty of crosses and shit on all the windows while you're gone."

"Yeah. Crosses and shit," Alan agreed.

"I have to, I have to prove to mom that they're alive, that Mike's with them. She doesn't believe me but it's true, you guys both saw it. The more people the more likely she'll believe. Guys, please, we gotta do this."

Edgar took a deep breath and closed his eyes, "look...Sam...I didn't want to have to tell you this, but I think they turned Rachel. The cheerleader with the big tits…" He opened his eyes again, "for the good of Santa Carla...we've got to stay out of this. They did it to get back at us, and I don't want them to get at the rest of the cheerleading squad."

"Dude, they didn't turn her, she was at school yesterday, she was fine." He rolled his eyes, "Just come with me and stop being a jerk."

Alan picked at a piece of toast, looking at Sam with a slight frown, "maybe he's right, Ed. It's daytime, anyway. Not like they can do anything...maybe we can stake them while we're there. This time I think we've got a good idea which one's in charge. Can't fuck it up twice, can we?"

Edgar lowered his head, then looked back at Sam with a determined frown, "alright, Sam. But if your brother really is one of them, we gotta stake him. They gave us a warning last night. If we go in and leave even one of them hanging around, it's our asses. Understand?"

"If they are alive and kicking we're gonna leave 'em alone, is what we're gonna do." Grandpa stated, heading for the door, "We're not gonna be able to take 'em all out. They'll let us go, at least this time. Can probably make a deal with 'em if we're careful."

They didn't find the graves at the hotel. It looked as if they'd never buried anything there at all. Proof Sam was right. Sam lingered back for a moment while the others left. He had written a note for his brother. He tucked it under a rock on the fountain before running outside, escaping the smell of death that lingered in the air. His eyes lingered on a familiar weight set tucked into the corner of the lobby.

* * *

David was the first one up and the moment he dropped down from his perch he knew something was wrong. An odd smell lingered in the air, a mixture of four different scents, and it didn't take a rocket scientist to figure out who they belonged to. A soft growl escaped his lips as he looked up at the other boys.

"Someone's been here, boys, and I'll give you three guesses as to who it was." He shouted up at them.

"Your mom?" Paul snickered, swiftly descending from his perch only to land with a sudden frown, breath coming out in a low hiss when he picked up the scent. The others followed soon after, immediately on the defensive. Michael, on the other hand, wasn't sure exactly what to feel. It smelled like the kids back at that house...

"They're long gone." David strode into the main room, keeping an eye on his fledgling, "They know for sure we aren't dead, it's what they decide to do with that information that could royally fuck things up." He would keep his promise to Michael and make sure Sam was safe but the other boys? Well, fair game.

Dwayne drew up behind David, arms crossed as he sniffed at the air, " _dumb fucks,"_ he grumbled, shaking his head. You'd think a warning like the one they'd left would've been enough.

Michael was pensive, remaining against the wall as he tried to focus on gathering his thoughts. There was something else familiar about this whole thing...the scents...being here. Had they been in the hotel together before, he wondered? And there was another one, too...

"The old man was here too." Marko made a face, "Smells like death and Oreos." He headed for the fountain, freezing a couple feet away, "Fuck." His eyes were locked on something sitting on the edge.

David was there in a flash, snatching it up. Fuck was right. The little shit left a note...for Michael. He'd have to hand it over but he wasn't looking forward to it, "Michael." He held it out, hiding his nervousness at what Michael's reaction would be. His fledgling jerked out of his dazed thoughts, slowly striding over to take the offered note from him, frowning.

"What's this?" He asked, reading his name on the envelope and tearing it open to yank out the letter inside:

 _Mike, meet me and mom on the boardwalk tomorrow night. We'll do what we can to help you. - Sam_

"You have a choice to make. Are you with me, with us, or them?" David asked, eyes locked on the brunette's. There wasn't any other option besides being blunt, he needed to know where his fledgling's loyalties lay.

Michael slowly lowered the letter, glancing up at David, "they were my family. Weren't they?" It was the only thing that seemed to make any sense. Going through the trouble to come here, knowing they'd made a fairly clear warning? Yeah...things were getting a little bit clearer, now. The pain that had been a constant background in his head finally seemed to ease.

"When you were one of _them_ , human, yes." His voice was flat as he spoke but underneath he was worried, he didn't want to lose Michael and that's what would happen if he went back to them. He'd leave the pack and they would be forced to 'take care' of the problem.

There was a tense silence, as the others drew back and watched, quiet. Not even Paul had anything to say. This went beyond a stupid fucking joke. This was their pack, their family, that was at stake here.

Michael looked down at the letter again, scanning the contents one more time, then he slowly crumpled it into his hands and tossed it to the ground, glancing back up at David. He leaned forward slowly, unsure exactly what he should do. But he let his instincts make the choice for him, and his hesitation faded away as he pressed his lips to David's. The elder vampire growled softly, fingers moving into his hair, tugging lightly as he nipped at his lips, asking him to tip his head in submission. It wasn't something that usually came easy for Michael. He was passive, but not necessarily submissive. Still, he did so, acknowledging his loyalty and trust in his pack leader. The growl turned into a purr as he licked his throat, kissing the soft flesh over where his pulse point would be if he had one. Michael growled softly in reply, gently urging David forward as he drew his hands up to his maker's shoulders, fingers digging into the fabric.

David bit slowly, a bite to mark, a bite to claim, a bike to acknowledge the fact that Michael had given himself to the pack, to him. Michael gasped, breathing harshly, uncertain, but anxious. The further David went, the more _right_ his choice felt. Layers of pain digging into his skull, and shards of stubborn memories seemed to finally crumble away. Gone forever. In their place, the ragged scar David left on his neck.

The moment David was pleased with the mark, he pulled back, lapping over it with his tongue. He drew his fingers down his spine, releasing his hair and rumbling against his throat. Oh, how he wanted to feel him bend, feel him writhe beneath him. No simple handjobs, no, he wanted it all. The arousal straining at Michael's jeans as he pressed closer to David seemed to agree. He pulled his fledgling to the side, guiding him toward the lone bed, sliding his fingers under his shirt, tugging it up and over his head before tossing it to the side. Michael gazed at him through a fall of dark curls, hands reaching up to tug at David's collar.

"I want to see all of you." David licked his lips softly as his breath ghosted across them. He let his coat fall to the floor, pulling his own shirt off in one fell swoop.

"I guess you're about to," Michael snorted, shaking his head. He wasn't much for pillow talk. But he was happy to oblige, slowly lowering one hand to undo his fly, unzipping it and shifting until he slid his jeans down, letting them fall over the side of the bed as he pulled his legs up to the mattress, and leaned forward to nip hungrily at David's earlobe, moving down to drag his tongue along his master's throat.

The low purr seemed to be unending as David reached to stroke through his hair with one hand while his other slid down to his own jeans, tugging them open with a few practiced jerks. He knew he needed to make this good. His fingers fumbled along the head of the bed, finally wrapping around a crumpled tube. He held it up in success, unscrewing the top before coating his fingers in lube. There were no second guesses, no warnings, David's fingers slid into him without pause. Michael jumped in surprise, but didn't pull away, closing his eyes and groaning against David's throat. A growl of want escaped the bleach blonde's lips. He wasn't sure how long he would be able to resist, he wanted, no, needed to take him.

"Fuck." He hissed, working to stretch him out quickly, amid short gasps and groans from Michael, who responded gradually to his ministrations, squirming in anticipation of something he didn't quite grasp. It was unfamiliar to say the least, but not... _bad._ Just...different.

He couldn't take it anymore, his fingers were slid free and without any further preamble he pressed inside, moaning as he sank into that tight heat. Michael gave a sharp cry, jolting and arching as he lay back against the mattress. Somehow David managed to get ahold of himself enough to slow down, giving him time to adjust as he was slowly impaled. Inch by inch he sank inside until finally he was all in. Michael dug claws into David's back as he began to writhe, baser instincts finally beginning to take hold, massaging David's back while giving a tentative thrust against him. The groan of encouragement was followed by a thrust in return, lips descending to nip and kiss at his fledgling's. Michael's tongue darted out to line David's own mouth, pressing back against him into a bruising kiss, beginning to find a gentle rhythm when the cock shifted inside him, growling as something began to gradually build up. David's pace increased as he began to drive himself forward, throbbing deep inside him. His fingers slid down Michael's side, moving to wrap around the cock trapped between them, giving it a firm stroke to match the pounding of his hips. Their lips remained touching, moving between barely a brush to a blur of teeth and tongues.

Michael couldn't even remember why he'd been so angry before he made his first kill, or why he'd fought David. Granted, this probably wasn't something he'd actively seek out every night, but he was definitely enjoying it. David had been right. Nothing really mattered beyond just...enjoying themselves. Being part of the pack was like being a part of something bigger, something indescribable. It was safety, it was pleasure, it was everything. No sooner had he thought this, he finally felt that pressure inside him snap, the pleasure building to the throb and rhythm of their movements. With a sharp scream, he dug his fangs into David's throat, his release splashing between them. David moaned, letting out a low cry as he drove his own fangs in. The feel of Michael squeezing around him sent him over the edge, his hips giving one last stutter thrust as he came, holding Michael tightly against him.

Dwayne, Marko, and Paul remained silent throughout as they lingered in the lobby. This wasn't something to be mocked or cheered, there would be no teasing, it just felt almost...sacred, and not even Paul was going to do anything to ruin it.

* * *

Sam looked over at Lucy. He was nervous, she still didn't totally believe him, but he had convinced her to come with him. Now if only Michael would show up everything could go back to normal. He could get back with Star, they could go to Arizona like they planned, or maybe they'd have to go somewhere like Alaska where the nights got really long...He shook his head, there wasn't time to think about that, he had to think about now, not later.

Lucy tightened her shawl about her, looking over at her youngest son thoughtfully before the sound of engines pealed through the night air and caught her attention. With dad to back him up, there was no denying that he hadn't dreamt...what he'd seen. Five bikes came to a stop not too far away. Three blondes and two brunettes...Michael. Her baby boy was with those bikers. Those bikers who had been killed in their house, who had been buried in that old hotel. They moved in unison, making their way over to the pair, the bleach blonde, David, she thought, was in the lead.

Try as she might, she couldn't even get Michael to meet her eyes. And he didn't even look like he was avoiding it...he just didn't _care_.

"Hello, Lucy, Sam, nice evening we're having." David said cordially, "Let's cut to the chase, what do you want?"

Sam frowned, backing away from David a step and glancing over at his brother, "we just want to talk to Mike."

David motioned to him, "He's here, talk."

"Michael!" Lucy pulled Sam to the side, squeezing his shoulders and trying to meet her eldest son's eyes, his name a plea in her voice. "Michael, sweetie, what happened to you?"

Michael looked at the pair, and there was nothing either of them could recognize behind his eyes. Just cold amusement to match the others, empty and dark. Lucy's heart break to see a look like that in her own son's gaze. "Please, just let my baby go…" She looked back at David, just knowing in her heart he had to have done something, or was doing something to force him to act this way…

"Your baby is dead," Michael replied before David could, shrugging his shoulders. "I don't know you, lady."

David chuckled softly, "It's all on him, his choice. Michael, what do you want?"

Sam looked like he was on the verge of tears but was holding strong, looking pleadingly at his brother. Michael, in his turn, met Sam's eyes as a slow grin formed on his face. Cruel. Just as empty as his eyes.

"I think I want to grab a bite to eat," Michael decided, "so stop bugging me. I'm not going to play nice the next time I see either of you."

David chuckled softly, "You heard him, he's not yours, not anymore. You leave us alone, we leave you alone, alright?"

Lucy wept, continuing to stare at Michael, wordless. Unable to speak. Beside her, Sam clenched his fists, "you're gonna pay for doing this to him."

Michael just rolled his eyes and hopped onto his bike beside the others, not even bothering to remark about that. He really wasn't his brother anymore...just a monster in Michael's skin.

David leaned forward, whispering softly, "I promised him that I wouldn't let him eat you but hey, I can only hold him off as long as you behave yourself and stay the fuck away."

"Promised?" Sam frowned, "he _knew_ this was going to happen to him?"

David grinned, "Mostly." He pulled back, "So, be a good boy and run along home."

Lucy pulled Sam closer to her, "let's...let's go home, Sam…" She kept her face pointed away from Michael as she pressed her face to Sam's shoulder. She wasn't going to tell Michael about the baby. Wasn't going to tell Star about Michael...she'd carry this night to her grave. For all intents and purposes...he _was_ gone. Forever.

* * *

Final Notes:

Ran - We had a blast writing this together. Yes guys, we're working on another story, too. But...not a sequel to this one. This, alas, may remain as a one-parter. It was just a little tough on us to be so mean to Lucy and Sam. Still, the next one's a doozy...

Kage - It promises to be just as much fun...for us!


End file.
